Reparations
by Gregg Landsman
Summary: One hundred and seventy years after the Temple Ship, humanity has spread out among the stars and found to their surprise that the aliens they thought of as monsters and conquerors were saints and jerks just like everyone else. That and as it turns out the Ethereals were really, really sorry.
1. Chapter 1

Orange screens hover, holographic displays floating over their consoles. In the silent cabin of the cockpit, a tin floats over. Suspended in a purple haze, it rotates through the air, lip twisting off and releasing a single, curved and thin yellow crisp. It flies, rolling and accelerating. It passes by floating dice, curving around a floating empty glass.

And it makes a full rotation before passing into the mouth of the bearded man leaning back in the chair.

"Joker."

Turning the chair around, the young man in the pilot's cap and blue uniform levels his purple eyes at the approaching visitor. Tall, beefy, broad and chiseled. Kaidan Alenko scratches the back of his head as he stares at the floating objects in the middle of the cockpit.

"Joker, are you using your psychic powers to eat potato chips?"

"Yeah." Jeff Moreau shrugs, opening the side of his mouth as the soda can floats over, straw first. "It's not like I'm going to see front lines, Kaidan. If I got it, I use it."

Kaidan shakes his head. Walking over, he grabs the cup out of the air, his own eyes flashing purple for a moment as the other objects float over to him. "Anyway," he says, "Any word from Shepard and her team?"

Joker shakes his head. "Nope. Peak Fifteen's in the middle of a storm and pretty isolated, though." He draws another potato chip over before Kaidan snatches the tin. "Don't be so worried, Alenko. I'm sure they're fine. They got Tali and Garrus with them, and that sort of makes up for Liara." He looks up at Alenko with smirking purple eyes. "What's the worst that can happen?"

Alenko stares at him for several long moments. "Did you _really_ just ask that?"

* * *

The spider tentacle monsters shriek, purple nimbuses surrounding them as their many eyes turn a deep, striking violet.

"The Rachni have psychic powers!" the turian screams from behind the half wall.

A deafening array of clicks fills the air as every speaker sprays sparks.

"The Geth have overriden every system in the base!" the quarian girl shrieks, next to the red haired human woman in black armor, "Shepard! Plan!"

Jane Shepard peaks up from behind the cover, staring past the psychic rachni, omnipresent Geth, and at the red light coming from the green glow on the top of the nearby buildings. "Shit! Asari Snipers!"

Next to her, the blue skinned girl with the head tentacles tightly grips her pistol. The fear is evident, both from her eyes and-

"We're all _going to die!"_

A snort. The krogan stands up, red lights painting him from waist to the red crest atop his head. Hocking, he turns and spits, reaching behind him and pulling out his shotgun. "Know what? All you little babies better _duck._ " He pumps the shotgun, grinning. "'Cause I'm about to _turn left,_ and I don't want to **smack you with my dick."**

* * *

 _One hundred and twenty years after an alien invasion of Earth, human astronauts under the auspices of the XCOM organization found an ancient outpost of the Protheans. Within this ruin were plans, information, and technology that humanity used to unlock the Mass Relay in their system, and spread out amongst the stars._

 _Where they found both new allies, and old enemies that were not what they seemed._

 _Humanity called the secrets of the Protheans the greatest discovery in human history. The other races of the galaxy call it the-_

 **Mass Effect:**

 **Reparations**

* * *

 _Earlier._

Black, pointed legs skitter back and forth. Four legs carry it across the metal floor of the small apartment. It looks up with two opaque, solid yellow eyes and chirps, rattling the mandibles hanging beneath its sloped back head. Yellow tipped purple tendrils rattle on its back, and it parks itself in front of the door, waiting. Watching.

Judging.

The door opens, revealing the tall, redheaded woman with a curly ponytail falling past her shoulders. She blinks green eyes, looks down, and reaches down to stroke one of the tendrils. The fearsome predator- which comes up just above her knees, vibrates in place, plates rattling along its legs in time with a cat-like purr.

"Heya, Chirples. Were you waiting for me?"

The chryssalid squats down, clicking his mandibles and emitting a low trill. Jane Shepard rolls her shoulders, walking into her apartment. Raising her left arm, the orange outline of the omnitool appears, turning the opaque wall window transparent and revealing the urban sprawl of the Citadel Wards.

On her heels, the vaguely arachnid pet follows, leaning back and staring at her with large golden eyes. In response, she rolls her eyes with a smirk. Setting the overnight bag down by the room's single table, she skips over to the squat minifridge. A single motion, and the varren steak is caught in the chryssalid's claws, the sound of messy devouring and cheerful shrieking filling the apartment.

She adjusts her blue uniform jacket, rolling her neck. Walking across the single room, stepping over her feeding companion, she rests a hand on the bed and flips onto it. Landing on her back, she sprawls out, clicking her omnitool as the drone on the table glows red and floats over. The doors on the front open, the distinctive sound of a mixer coming to life followed by the thermos dropping into her hand.

Jane Elizabeth Shepard, Commander. Recently appointed XO to the SSV Normandy SR-1.

Combat Engineer, Command School graduate.

XCOM dropout.

She sips her drink, rolling her eyes. Already five congrats messages from Mom. Two from her cousin on Mindoir.

It's been around three decades since humanity joined the larger galaxy. Second Contact, the Shanxi incidents. The Blitz. Which she was lucky enough to be at.

There is a shriek, and she grunts as several pounds of Chirples lands on her stomach, looking at her with big gold puppy dog eyes. Smirking, she reaches out and strokes a tendril, letting her pet curl up next to her.

"Okay, kiddo," she says, "Hope they don't mind you on my new ship."

* * *

The vents on the shoulder wings glow, propelling the suit forward. Weaving through automated traffic, he takes a moment to appreciate the view. The open flower of the Citadel surrounds him, the massive station home to millions.

It doesn't take him long to find his target. Hanging from a docking berth. It is arrowhead shaped, sleek and long. Pearl white armor, black stripes up its side leading to the four prismatic bulbs in the back. Waving to the side, weaving back, he accelerates gently through traffic, past skycabs and frigates moving into the flow out of the station.

" _Normandy, this is Archangel 7. Requesting permission to come in."_

" _Roger, Archangel. Opening a landing pad for you now. Welcome aboard, Lieutenant."_

Jets flare and he accelerates. The circle on the top of the ship opens, and he twists in his descent. Boot jets fire, a sphere of rainbow light surrounding him. A single jerk, a single practiced motion, and he lands in a crouch on the pad. White armor reflects light off condensation. The single glowing grill on the helmet flares and dies down. Black seems on the armor hiss as it begins venting atmosphere, and he begins walking as the long landing strip.

Robotic arms rise out with every step. Plates are detached along the seems. The back jets power down as they are pulled off and down into storage. Shoulder plates are pulled off and reveal the black uniform jacket with the patch on the arm, displaying a stylized X.

The helmet comes off last. It shows the square jaw, the close cut black hair and purple eyes. He rolls his shoulders as he steps out of the boots last, and finds the person waiting for him.

Jane Shepard blinks, holding the pet carrier in one hand and duffle in the other. Dropping both to the sound of an angry chirp, she salutes.

"Lieutenant Alenko. Welcome aboard." She clears her throat. "Commander Shepard, XO. Was that Archangel armor?"

He nods with a smirk. "Archangel Mark 7 armor, actually." He returns the salute. "Pleasure to meet you, Commander. Reputation proceeds you."

She rolls her eyes. "Tell me about it. Anderson sent me up to make sure you got onboard. We're shipping off to Eden Prime ASAP."

He nods. "No problem." He rolls his neck. "Sorry for the delay. Needed to break in the new combat armors before we get into trouble." He gestures to the floor. "Are you certified?"

She shakes her head. "XCOM washout." She taps her omnitool, bringing up a screen. "Aaaaand you're a certified XCOM agent. Wonderful."

Clicking his heels, he nods. "Certified in Archangel, PSI amp, Ghost armor and with plasma long range rifles, yes." He coughs. "Not to brag."

He smiles. She smiles back. Then, she remembers to speak.

"So. Want a tour?"

* * *

 _"Let me get this straight. Out of every officer we have, out of all the possible agents we can recommend, we are recommending an X-COM dropout for humanity's first SPECTRE?"_ The voice, acidic and biting as it is, echoes through the office as he paces. " _Anderson, I have reviewed every possible angle on this. I have also confirmed from multiple sources that despite your long-standing friendship with Captain Shepard there is absolutely no chance this is nepotism. So may I ask_ _ **why?"**_

Bracing his hands against the clear plastic desk, David Anderson lets out a long pent up sigh. "Ambassador, the worst thing we can do is recommend an X-COM operative for SPECTRE status."

There is silence on the other end. " _Anderson, I am sitting down and listening. I also suspect I may need a drink after this explanation."_

 _You and me both,_ he thinks. But does not say, as there is a good chance that Donel Udina had his quarters bugged. That, and there are the ever present rumors he is a psychic, as well. _Douchebag,_ Anderson thinks. No reaction, so either those are unfounded rumors, or he should never play Udina in poker.

"X-COM has a reputation, Ambassador. And that reputation involves violence. Lots of violence." Pacing the room, hands folded behind him, he chooses his words. "We can't let the galaxy see us as savages. Xenophobia has its place, but not as the _face of humanity._ "

" _SPECTREs aren't the face of humanity, Anderson. They-"_

"Are the _Left Hand of the Council._ They are the will of the Council and the finest their governments have to offer." Turning to the computer on his desk, displaying the seal of the Consul Office, he levels a finger at it. "Our finest soldier should not be someone who shoots first and asks questions of the still-twitching corpse! It should be someone who _thinks_ for themselves, who is willing to accept that some things _cannot be done!_ That is why I recommended Shepard for this position!"

A pause on the other end. A long, long pause. " _I think that argument is idiotically idealistic, Anderson._ " Another pause, followed by something hitting glass. From the chink, from the sound, probably ice cubes. " _I can also see how it makes sense. Your recommendation passes. Udina out."_

The screen goes blank, and Anderson smirks. Which lasts all of five seconds before the voice comes over the speakers. " _Captain Anderson, our VIP has arrived."_

* * *

 _In media res,_ the motto of Jane Shepard's life. Every situation she ends up in, more often than not, is a situation already in progress. Walking on a brisk pace along the hallways of the Normandy, she wraps the lead around her hand and looks down at the sound of high pitched warbling.

Chirples keeps pace next to her, compound eyes glancing from side to side as he familiarizes himself with his new, albeit temporary home. High pitched squeaks as they pass new people, who smile down at the dog sized spider alien. He always has been people friendly.

Tugging the lead along, she trots up the stairs from the mess hall to C&C. Chirples follows her lead, hopping up and running alongside the wall next to her. Passing the navigation crew, passing servicemen in hardsuits and carapace armor, she and her chryssalid walk into the open dome comm room.

Clicking her heels, Shepard salutes. Chirples stands straight, before trotting over and sitting on his haunches next to Anderson.

Shepard snorts at the traitorous chryssalid. The chryssalid squarks back as Anderson reaches down and rubs one of his head tentacles, and Shepard turns to the guest standing in the briefing room. Clicking her heels, the redhead salutes, meeting the eyes of the blue skinned alien.

"Commander Shepard, XO, Normandy SR1."

The asari nods, smirking. "Tela Vasir, Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. Captain Anderson and I have just been discussing you."

Jane nods, but says nothing. She turns her gaze to Anderson and her chryssalid, both of them wearing feigned expressions of innocence, although she is relatively certain David Anderson didn't shit on the floor. "What's this about, sir?"

"Vasir is here to evaluate you, Commander," he says. He waits, but she says nothing, as she is not sure exactly what she is being evaluated for. "Your name has been put forward as the candidate for humanity's first SPECTRE."

To which Jane Shepard, XO of the Normandy, Commander and N4, does have a response.

"Bwha?"

* * *

Eden Prime. The jewel in the crown of the Systems Alliance, a blue green world orbiting the star of Utopia. White jets along its front fire, and the Normandy decelerates, arching gracefully through the array of satellites surrounding the garden world.

Inside the cockpit- or Helm, as he would insist- Joker waves his hands along the haptic controls and whistles, letting purple eyes set on the virtual representation of Eden Prime's extensive defensive network. "Just want to point out," he says, "We had less than fifteen hundred kilometers drift from the Mass Relay."

In the copilot seat to his right, Kaidan says nothing. He favors the pilot with a look and turns back to his own console. Behind Joker, the Asari cocks her head. "Hell, if you're ever tired of flying for the Alliance, I'd hire you," Vasir says, "That's fucking amazing."

Joker grins, but manages, somehow, to not preen. Kaidan rolls his eyes.

Reaching out, he taps the display hovering next to the controls. "STC, this is SSV Normandy. Requesting landing clearance at minimal distance from the Prothean Beacon. We are here for pickup."

A window folds out to a young woman with large, black eyes. Her hair is tied back in a bun, and even from the muted colors of the communication screen, they can make out the green and black of X-COM. " _SSV Normandy, clearance granted. Please land at the following coordinates. Please be advised that there is a delay in Beacon transport."_

Vasir leans forward. "STC, this ship is on Council Business. Please explain what the delay is."

" _VIP. We apologize for the delay."_

The screen blinks, and becomes a view of another section of Eden Prime's airspace. In particular, further into the atmosphere, and a ship hovering over one of the smaller settlements of Eden Prime. A ship standing nearly half a kilometer tall, carved features over its surface resembling the shape of a four armed humanoid in state, but only from a distance.

Up close, the grooves and vents become ingenious channels for mass effect engines, allowing the ship exceptional maneuverability in the atmosphere or space. Which, thankfully, no one present has had to deal with one.

"Well shit," Vasir mutters, "Clarify, STC. Is an Ethereal Eidoleon on Eden Prime?"

" _Yes. With full escort,"_ the weary voice of the space traffic controller replies, " _Again, sorry SSV Normandy. Coordinates sent."_

Joker swears at length, and leisurely dips the frigate into the atmosphere for the landing.

* * *

"Okay. Mission parameters have changed." She grabs the rifle off the rack, the faint green glow of its power cell dim when it folds into the oblong carry mode and clamps onto her back. The blue, form fitting armor glows from the servos in its joints and the aesthetic lines along the chest's solid plate. "We are going to be meeting with an Alliance Marine stationed on Eden Prime. They have been the liaison between the Ethereal and Eden Prime's defense forces."

She grabs a pistol, holstering it on her side. The motor hums through her armor like an underpowered massager. Turning to her squad, she lets the display of her clipped on visor boot up, and lists off the names.

JENKINS, R. L.

ALENKO, K.

ANDERSON, D.

VASIR, T.

"This means we are delayed in picking up the Beacon, and we are going to be in the presence of an alien we have a _history_ with," she says, stressing the last part, before tapping on her omnitool. On the table next to her, a squat, winged machine sputters to life. Panels underneath it glow and it hovers over to her.

Anderson smirks. Jenkins nods. Alenko raises his hand.

"I'd just like to point out," he says, "As the token X-COM officer on board that I have no problems with the Ethereals."

Jenkins turns to him, cocking an eyebrow. The career marine opens his mouth, closes it. "Wait, wha?"

Kaidan shrugs. "I took electives on galactic history. The Temple Ship was completely unconnected to the actual Ethereal Adventium." He waggles both hands, as if milking two invisible cows. "I mean, we've had access to archives- and I admit most people are too busy to go through them like I did- but even cosmetic evidence tells us that the aliens on the Temple Ship were considerably modified compared to what we see these days-"

Jane raises her hand. She points to Anderson, or in particular the domesticated chryssalid standing next to him, twitching his mandibles and giving her multiple puppy dog eyes.

"Yes, Commander," Kaidan says, "I know you don't have to be convinced."

Behind her, light pours through from the ramp opening to the vast green that is Eden Prime. Vasir walks past Shepard, patting her on the shoulder. "I'm going to go ahead and check up on the Beacon." She favors Jane with a grin. "Looking good so far, kid."

Vasir jumps out before the Normandy fully lands, a blue glow surrounding her before she darts off into the distance.

Light clearing, eyes adjusting, Jane adjusts the visor over her right eye and takes in the sights, smells, and colors of the garden world before sneezing. Her display reads off the pollen in the air and how many ways she is allergic to it, and she taps her omnitool to administer the appropriate treatments.

"Good luck, Commander," Anderson says, snapping off a sharp salute, "We'll be taking the Normandy back into low orbit."

Jane nods. She turns to Alenko and Jenkins. "Let's go," she says, and walks off the ramp. Her GREMLIN drone follows her, along with the two marines, and whatever smartass thing Jenkins had to say is drowned out by the roar of the Normandy lifting off. She is not sure what it was about- whether about the woman approaching them, in white and red armor, carrying an impressive machine gun, or the seven foot tall purple alien following her several paces back.

Jane comes to a half arms reach from the woman, and salutes. "Commander Shepard, SSV Normandy."

The woman folds the rifle and holsters it, snapping her heels together and saluting. "Chief Williams. I'm the company head for the marines here." She smirks. "Call me Ash, everyone else does."

She's about half a head shorter than Jane, but not _short._ She would more consider her _condensed_ rather than small. Ash idly adjusts the scrunchy keeping the black hair under control. "So the Eidoleon is about a click this way and says it's been 'waiting' for the Normandy. Tsoriokos volunteered to act as escort."

"Who's that?" Jenkins asks, eyes still on the purple giant, and in particular on the cannon it's carrying that looks like it was yanked off a fighter.

Ash nods her head to the Muton. "That's Tsoriokos. The T is silent."

"Male," Kaidan says, softly, "I mean, I can tell because he doesn't look like he wants to tear our heads off." He then coughs when he realizes Ash is now glaring at him.

"As a woman should I be offended by that?" Jane can see the small smirk on the corner of Ash's lip but says nothing.

"No, no," Kaidan says, hands up, "It's just that Muton females are about a foot taller than the males and can punch you so hard that the last thing that goes through your brain is your jaw. The Temple Ship ones were-"

"Berserkers, right," Ash drawls, "Is that racist? I can never tell."

Jane shrugs. Jenkins keeps staring at the cannon. "I don't thing so, as long as you keep in mind that the Temple Ship aliens were all heavily modified," Kaidan says, hands up and looking as if he is trying to juggle, "I mean, compare a Temple Ship Chryssalid to Chirples."

Ash cocks an eyebrow. "Chirples?"

"I have a pet chryssalid," Jane responds.

Ash stares at Jane for long moments. The Muton balls his hand and coughs.

"That's badass," Ash says, "He ever try to-"

"No." Jane shakes her head, and realizes she forgot to tie back her hair, taking the offered scrunchy from Ash and pulling it back, "Seriously, that's over-stated. Most of the time, when someone's talking about domesticated chryssalid attacks, it's because the owner didn't know what they were doing. It's not 'bad' chryssalids, it's bad chryssalid owners."

Another cough, and the Muton walks over. No one goes for their guns and he smiles. "The Eidoleon Ialamos is waiting," he says, his voice deep and scratchy, like it starts in his feet, "This way, please."

* * *

 **Codex Entry: Chryssalid Domesticus**

 _The homeworld of the parasitic, egg laying genus of insectoid and arachnids known as Chrysalids is unknown. All known examples of chryssalids come from the Muton homeworld of Tzimskei, where it is believed that, following the Temple Ship attack dated at 14,000 years ago, a breeding population of chryssalids were left on the continent of Kalnilia, where they quickly filled most of the ecological niches. The chryssalid trait of genetic memory- that is, that memories are passed on from parent to spawn- is believed to be the main reason the Mutons, with their cultural fixation on lineage, did not wipe them out. Once humanity took to the stars, they were confronted with the fact that their enemies from the First Alien War were galactic citizens, including the parasitic aliens that were frequently used as terror weapons. However, it was soon understood that the Chryssalid Domesticus, or domesticated Chryssalid, was not the horror of the twenty first century, and fear soon melted in the face of its four puppy dog eyes. Common breeds include the Reaver Chryssalid, the Opal Hard Shelled Chryssalid, and the Eight Legged Jumping Miniature Chryssalid, or as they are commonly called, 'Spider Puppies.'_

* * *

Raised on a starship, Jane Shepard was taught two things- Space is empty, but space is also crowded. Most of space is just that- space. Empty, vast, and completely unfriendly to human life. But at the same time, humanity was never alone. Even before the discovery of the Prothean Ruins and the Charon Relay, humans knew they weren't alone. That came in the form of an unwelcome wakeup call in the second decade of the twenty first century.

The second wakeup call came earlier _this_ century, when humanity spread out from the Sol system, and found that not only were the invaders from that first, fateful war still out there, but that they were _friendly_.

One of the 'Great Pictures of the Twenty Second Century', one that is framed and blown up for everyone to see at the Presidium, is of General Williams shaking the hand of an Ethereal, closing the First Contact War.

"So, what model Gremlin's that?" Ash points at the hovering drone, which unlike her other companion isn't self aware. Hence, the gremlin doesn't turn to her, simply hovering next to Shepard.

Jane, on the other hand, does react, turning to Ash and then to her drone. "Well, it started as a Mark IV I picked up on sale, but I've modded it considerably. I mean, I could switch over to the IMP, DJINN, or RABBIT drones, but I've gotten attached to this one."

She pats the drone, and winces from the static shock. Kaidan and Jenkins walk a few steps behind them, and behind them walks the Muton with the rail cannon he apparently lifted off a ship. The emerald garden that is Eden Prime is quiet around them- in the distance they can see spires of the colony, and the simple bursts of light that are its communications tower, relaying to the orbital traffic above.

They can _feel_ it before they see him. The great weight of mind, spreading out like a warm spring breeze, lifting worries from mind and washing away all doubt with an ever present aura of _calm._ It stands twice as tall as any human, taller than the Muton. A long red cloak falling over it and an ornate, vented helm over its head. Jane briefly looks down, and sees at the end of the cloak two sandal clad feet barely touching the ground.

" _Shepard."_

She looks up. She hears him say her name but understands that it is not with breath and word, but with thought. The fact that everyone else looks up is a sign of it not being a private conversation.

" _Good afternoon. I am Eidoleon Ialamos of the Adventum."_

"I'm Commander Shepard of the SSV Normandy," she says, and salutes, "A pleasure to meet you-" She bites her lip, and clears her throat. "My apologies, but I don't know your title past Eidoleon. Is it Ambassador or Councillor or-"

" _Ialamos will do. I have been waiting for you."_

The Ethereal tilts his head. Jane mirrors the action. "For the Normandy?"

" _No. And I cannot say why. It is a portent, but I imagine humans are bringers of such,"_ the Ethereal says, faint chimes accompanying its speech, " _The further one travels down the path of the mind, the more confusing it can become, I suppose."_

Jane nods. Ash shrugs. Jenkins glances between the muton behind them and the terrifyingly powerful psychic in front of them. Kaidan just gives a knowing nod.

 _"Humans are a topic of much instance amongst the Adventum. Many of us ask ourselves how your world was able to do what none other have and stop our great shame, the Temple Ship."_

Jane shrugs. She takes a deep breath, looks up at the face of the inscrutable alien before her, and says something which, the moment is leaves her mouth, she realizes is the stupidest thing she ever said. "I guess they were so busy anal probing humans that it never crossed their minds of what would happen if the humans anal probed them back?"

A dense and sudden silence falls over them. Ash chokes, turning to Shepard with a verbose look that says, 'Did you just start a war?' Kaidan freezes in place, and Jenkins glances from side to side, as if ready to make a run for it.

The Ethereal, however, makes a light sound. Like wind through chimes. " _Thank you."_

Jane blinks, frozen in place. "For?" she squeaks.

" _It has been too long since we have felt amusement. Come. The Beacon is this way."_

And Ialamos turns, feet lifting off the ground, and floats towards the stone structures in the distance.

Jane Shepard. N4. Commander. Chryssalid trainer. Ethereal comedian.

"I should put that on a business card," she mutters, and walks after the Ethereal.

* * *

The Normandy is an experiment, a symbol. A fusion of human and turian design- the Elerium technology of the System Alliance serving as the foundation for the prototype stealth frigate. Turian engineers designed the ship, as is evident from the holographic replica of Eden Prime set in the center of the CIC, set in in the back of the ship.

Charles Pressly might not agree with working with the aliens that much, but he isn't at that rank where people value his opinion _just_ yet. Rather, the bald man in alliance blues does his job, and does his job well. Standing at the console and eyes going over the map, he lets them dilate to take in more information- base level genemods. Helps him in firefights, helps him serve.

Also helps him spot the faint distortion on the globe, and he taps his fingers against the haptic interface built into the otherwise featureless console in front of him.

Eden Prime zooms out. First to the orbital traffic, then further. He sees it- not the object but the ripples left by an object. "Captain Anderson," he calls out, and grunts when he sees him not on the bridge. So he taps his omnitool, the orange display coming to life, and the internal comms of the Normandy come to life.

" _Captain Anderson! Unknown contact enroute to Eden Prime!"_

* * *

The Ethereal slowed down to allow Jane to catch up. It floated leisurely, feet hovering off the grass and soil, the vents of its all-concealing helm filtering air to the tune of wind chimes. She walks in silence along the enigmatic alien, and considers what she knows- and doesn't know- of the fourth race on the Citadel Council.

Well, there's the fact that there aren't that _many_. The Ethereals are reclusive. They rarely leave their homeworld. According to friends in the diplomatic corps, with a little effort you can learn the name of every Ethereal currently roaming around Citadel space. Some races of the Adventum worship them as gods, but all of them sing their praises.

Then there's the-

" _What do you know of the First Alien War?"_ Ah, yes, Jane thinks, He waits until she is distracted before potentially embarrassing her. She should set him up with Mom.

"I know it wasn't officially connected with the Adventum," she says, angling her head to the side to check on the others. In particular Alenko, who holds up his hands and nods. "I think the official story was that the 'Temple Ship' was a rogue colony ship of some sort that launched thousands of years ago."

The Ethereal is silent. Silent for long moments, while they walk along the farms of the garden world. Jane considers it- the First Alien War was a defining period in human history. Her great-great grandmother was a member of XCOM and-

" _It was built for a purpose._ " Jane nods, quickly turning her attention back to the enigmatic, possibly centuries old alien. " _I was not yet even born when it was made. Not all of the Ethereals are ancient. But we share our knowledge, and the ancestral knowledge we have of it is that it was built for a purpose."_

"A...terrible purpose?" she hazards.

" _A terrible purpose. To prepare, to fight against something from beyond the stars. Terrible and ancient and vast."_

Jane blinks. She turns to the Elder as the farms give way to the high walls of the excavation site. "This has something to do with the Beacon, doesn't it? With the Protheans?"

A small hymn and chimes escapes the ethereals mask. And then it stops, and turns. And looks up. It turns, directing its gaze, concealed by its helm to the muton. " _Tsoriokos. They come."_

The Muton drops his cannon, bringing up his left hand to his mouth in time with his omnitool manifesting. "This is Shipcommander! General evacuation! All crew to the escape pods-"

And then there is light, and the grass beneath them ripples out in waves. They look up, to see the first pieces of the Ethereal ship burning up in the atmosphere. The muton stares, at the cinders that were his crew, his ship, his responsibility.

Then, the air turns still, and silent and calm.

To be broken by the overpowering and terrible sound of a bass horn.

* * *

When one looks into the eyes of Tela Vasir, Tela Vasir looks back at you. In that moment, in that brief second of understanding, you know. You know the truth. You know she's seen some shit.

So when the _hum_ started not more than ten paces from her and she felt the static on the tips of her tendrils, she knew what was coming. One gesture, and a wall of crackling blue appears between her and the human handyman she was talking to.

Another gesture, and her right hand goes down, unlocking her shotgun and bringing it up with one hand to fire directly in the face of the alien that _teleported_ right in in front of her. Or, behind her a second ago. The other two aliens- tall, landky, vertical mouths- aren't given a chance to react or raise their glowing green weapons before she headshots them, too.

Tela Vasir has seen some shit.

"That's new," she says, lips a straight line. Well, newish. Similar enough to when an Eclipse vanguard tried to jump her with a cut short biotic charge that knew how to react. At least she doesn't have a broken collarbone this time.

She turns to the biotic wall and the older, cap wearing human. "Now's a good time to find someplace to hunker down," she says with a wink, "It's just gotten ugly."

"No questions there," he says, tipping his cap, and runs into the warehouse behind him.

Vasir turns to the three cooling corpses. She only knows of one race out there with vertical mouths, and these don't look like Volus from even a generous perspective. Squatting down next to the third- the shot hit him in the neck, so the face is still intact- she makes mental notes. Two eyes. Flat nose. Blue lines under the eyes- looks like circuitry.

Then she feels the hum, the static again, and stands up to aim her shotgun. And stares at a rotating disc with a massive cannon aimed right at her.

At least, before a rocket slams into its side, rocking it and tilting it before a second rocket flies right down the cannon and the entire thing explodes. A hastily thrown up barrier deflects the shrapnel, and she blinks to clear the dots from her eyes.

Quickly going through mental inventory, she goes down a list. Sneak attack. Purposeful exposure of weak points. Breaking cover because it inflicted maximum carnage.

"Saren?"

"Tela." A voice like rolling gravel accompanies the tall, bare faced turian, holstering his rocket launcher behind him and pulling out his rifle, "Council business?"

"Yeah," she says, idly circling the fellow Spectre, who simply taps a button on his left arm. The faint distortion surrounding the rest of his armor relaxes, a camouflage effect disengaged. "You're here on Council business, too?"

"Hierarchy business, actually," he says with a twitch of his mandibles and a grin, "If it was Council business you wouldn't have seen me."

"Oh I'd just track you by the explosions," she says with a smirk, "What was that and who are these?" She points the muzzle of her gun towards the corpses.

"Zudjari. They're not Citadel or Terminus. Anyone who's encountered them before call them Outsiders." He angles his head towards the stone structures in the distance. "Only thing worth protecting here is the Beacon. Do you know where it is?"

She nods. "Yeah. Follow me." She begins walking, letting him walk behind. "Heh. So we're working together again? Kind of like that time on Illium?"

Saren twitches his mandibles and rolls his eyes. "You and I remember Illium a lot differently."

* * *

The flashes of light precede the appearance of a dozen aliens- lanky, vertical mouths, holding plasma rifles the type which one normally doesn't see amongst the Citadel species. Glowing eyes and blue circuitry along their faces tell Jane that they are not there for diplomacy, and she unfastens her rifle in one smooth motion, along with-

"Kaiden! Wall!"

No sooner do the words leave her mouth than a wall of violet energy appears between them and the aliens, plasma fire splashing off of it. Another flash, and a dozen more appear _behind_ them. Jane turns, watching one thrown back by a burst of fire from Ash's rifle, its compatriots giving not a single damn as they open fire.

One blast fizzles against Jane's shields and she hears the alarms. Ducking into a roll, she whistles and her GREMLIN flies, chain lightning arching from alien to alien, blasts going wide and the squad scattering. Jenkins dives for a half ruined pillar- old architecture, possibly prothean and now partially melted from the sustained fire.

"Duck and cover!" he yells, and a simple green sphere is tossed overhand, flashing in mid air before an explosion of heat and light marks the detonation of the plasma grenade. The aliens don't scream- two of them closest to it reduced to charred husks but they don't scream.

The psionic wall falls under sustained fire, and Kaidan pulls out his pistol, running and shooting as he dives for cover. Tsoriokos roars, his railgun humming before sending the aliens flying two at a time- blood red rage in his eyes ignoring the plasma blasts peppering his armor, more teleporting in to replace their fallen brethren.

Ialamos does not move from where he stands. Blasts go wild around him. A headshot curves in flight and hits a nearby tree, setting it alight. He parts his robes and raises two hands, both on his right side, and a crackling aura of indigo surrounds them, surrounds him. Around the aliens he stares at, the air turns dark and thick, crackling electricity accompanied by the screams of the world itself torn asunder by will alone.

And then the world opens, the sky opens, and the vortex of raw psionic force rips into the minds of the aliens and a dozen of the attackers die where they stand. Bodies drop and the ethereal turns to the rest.

Backs against the pillar, Jenkins turns to Alenko, unfolding his rifle and whacking it until the barrel glows green. "Say," he yells to Kaidan, "Isn't this around the time X-COM drops a giant robot on these assholes?!"

It isn't that he is yelling out of anger. It is more the din of the firefight happening around them. "Technically they're called MECs and they're cyborgs," Kaidan yells back, "And we didn't have any on the Normandy!"

Jenkins peaks his head up, ducks down to dodge the volley of green, and then swings back up to shoot two aliens in the crotch. "Seriously? And there's none of those on Eden fucking Prime?"

Kaidan stares at Jenkins for a long moment. It is a moment not wasted, however, as they are also under extreme fire. Bringing up his omnitool, he takes a deep breath and shouts over the firefight-

"This is _Lieutenant Alenko, requesting Fire Support on my position!"_ A light sweeps over his eye. The screen on the omnitool warbles and wafts. Then they both hear a voice that, at least for Jenkins, defines the rest of his hopefully not-short life.

" _Authorization recognized. Operation Sky Slap underway."_

* * *

While the boys have their backs against the prothean ruins, the girls have taken cover behind the Muton, who roars while unloading round after exploding round into the growing alien horde. Plasma round after plasma round hits him, but rage and armor keep him standing, keep him from doing more than wince in _discomfort._

"Shouldn't you get to cover?!" Ash yells.

"I _am_ cover," Tsoriokos roars, raising his cannon and letting the underslung grenade launcher send the invaders scattering, "Elder! We are being over run!"

Shots go wide the closer they fly towards the Ethereal. Blasts of plasma veer off, flying past Ialamos, and he stands with arms outstretched, staring at the alien invaders. The air sings with vermillion and the invaders, for a brief moment, halt. Their weapons lower. Ash and Jane peak out from behind Tsoriokos' legs and stare, before nodding in agreement and running from behind the muton to behind the Ethereal.

" _Remember,"_ the Ethereal says, " _Remember who you are. Remember me. My voice guides. My voice commands."_

Their weapons lower. Inching lower and lower to the ground. And then the blue around their eyes turn red and their weapons rise, and they fire with mindless rage at the Ethereal.

The blasts fly wild, striking stone and earth and the trees surrounding the battlefield. One barks a command in a dead language, and above them a burst of light forms into a ring of metal, with a sphere at its center pulsing with gathering golden light.

And then something passes overhead. Jane catches the briefest glimpse of it, and only sees the prismatic glow of its engine trail. But she _does_ see what dropped from it. " _Incoming!"_ she yells. She jams a grenade into the ground and it explodes, forming a barrier around herself, Ash, and Ialamos. The muton looks up, and Jenkins peaks his head above the pillar to watch.

Which is went a metal giant lands between the aliens and them, grabbing the ring in one hand and slamming it into the alien horde, sending them flying as the core of the weapon explodes. He wades through unharmed, his right arm folding out into an oversized plasma cannon, and the sky turns green and fills with the sounds of monotone shrieks of the aliens.

" _Alenko! You should've told me you were planetside!"_

Three soldiers in flight armor descend, two of them, already unlocking plasma rifles, unloading on the aliens as the third, the one speaking, lands next to the pillar and pulls Kaidan to his feet. Despite the fact that the archangel armor is built like a large, burly man, the voice is unmistakably female.

"Should've told me you were on Eden Prime, Rahna," he breathes, patting her on the arm, "I'm going to assume this attack's localized."

" _Yeah, Command's dealing with a ship that just showed up in orbit. It hasn't launched any landing craft, so we didn't know there was trouble on the ground until you piped in."_

Jenkins watches. Not the woman in the flight armor, but the metal giant that _punched_ an alien and sent it _through_ another one. Shepard walks over to Kaidan, gun still out, Ash behind her.

"Kaidan. Beacon. We need to get there," she says, and nods to the armored woman when she turns to her. "Commander Shepard. SSV Normandy. Gonna say you know each other?"

" _Yeah, me and Kaidan were-"_

"Later," Shepard says, "Over drinks. Which I am buying for you and your entire squad." She angles her head towards the Beacon. Kaidan nods, pats Rahna on the arm, and follows Jane when she takes off in a sprint towards the Beacon, with the others following behind. And the Ethereal keeping pace despite floating.

Rahna shrugs, pulls out a glowing green cannon half her size, and joins in the decidedly one-sided battle.

* * *

 **Codex Entry: Plasma Countermeasures**

 _During the First Contact War, Systems Alliance Forces found that, despite the advantage that plasma weaponry gave their forces it was not an overwhelming advantage. While the Systems Alliance has developed countermeasures for plasma weaponry, it was not expected that the Citadel aligned forces would also have defenses. Due to the fundamental differences between plasma weaponry and mass effect weaponry, the common defense- kinetic barriers which slow or swat away hypervelocity projectiles- are ineffective against directed plasma weaponry. Defenses include Prismatic Refraction Pulse Layers- commonly referred to as Energy Shields- and reinforced armor. Due to the specialized nature of Energy Shields and the rarity of plasma weaponry outside of the Systems Alliance, only the most advanced and expensive military vessels will have them equipped, and even then will only raise them when coming under fire by plasma weaponry. As for how the Turian, Asari, and Salarian fleets have managed to develop these countermeasures, the official explanation is from researching artifacts found on worlds attacked by the Temple Ship. Conspiracy theories in System Alliance Space, especially among the Terra Nova movement, counter that it is due to alien infiltrators and snake people._

* * *

True fact- standard Systems Alliance armor includes servos to allow soldiers to run really long times. Hence, how Jane has been running non stop for fifteen minutes while the Ethereal idly floats along, keeping pace. They pass bombed out warehouses and plasma burnt pillars, hearing the sounds of the aliens teleporting behind them, and wisely dives, plasma blasts flying over her.

Kaidan turns, digs in his heels, and digs deep. A wall of indigo rises between him and the others- stretching across the field and shielding them all, even as blood leaks from Kaidan's nose.

"Shepard! Get to the beacon! We'll hold them off!"

Ash has already taken up position behind one of the partially melted pillars, Tsoriokos catching a thrown pistol from her and holding up his cannon with one hand. Shepard climbs to her feet, looks up, and jumps onto the Ethereal, wrapping her arms around its neck from behind.

"Can you fly?"

" _This is novel. We never expected humans to be so quick to embrace us in such a manner."_

Jane blinks and stares at the back of the alien's helm. "That was a _pun._ " She shakes her head and lightly slaps the metal. "Less cryptic! More flying!"

The Ethereal makes a light, airy sound, and vanishes into the distance. Trailed by Shepard's surprised, high pitched scream.

More and more Zudjari appear in flashes of light. Discs appear, hovering above them. Jenkins whistles, back against a pillar, and checks the readout on his rifle. "So," he calls out, "Kaidan, about how serious do you think XCOM took your call?"

His answer comes in the form of blasts of green fire, falling light lightning bolts from on high that blast the discs into scrap. Overhead, Jenkins sees the Firestorm pass, seconds before he _hears_ it pass.

"It gets better," Kaidan yells.

Two objects drop, one next to Ash's cover and one next to Jenkins. The fading, prismatic glow of the gravity waves are the reason the impact doesn't knock them off their feet, and Ash gives off an appreciative whistle. Each is a head taller than a person- man shaped, gleaming alloyed armor as tall as a muton and half as broad.

With a burst of steam, the backs of both sets of Titan armor open up.

"I have _always_ wanted to take one of these things for a ride," Ash squeals, and without prompting climbs into the armor, sliding her arms into the gauntlets and her feet into the foot rests. It closes around her and the eyes on the helm glow green, the wrist mounted plasma cannon spinning up.

"Jenkins," Kaidan calls out, "Get in the powered armor!"

Jenkins nods, dives in, and watches the heads up display resolve in front of him. _My,_ he thinks, _That's a shitload of weapons._

"Hey, Alenko," he calls out, "What's a _blaster launcher?"_

Kaidan reloads the clip on his pistol and darts next to Ash. "It's your new best friend!"

The wall drops, and Jenkins raises his left arm. The launcher folds out and a burst of yellow light accompanies the activation of the launcher. As it turns out, Kaidan was right. It is, indeed, Richard Jenkins' new best friend.

* * *

The Beacon itself stands on a white platform, ringed with gold. The Beacon, and the structure around it, were dated back to the Protheans. Majestic, gilded, timeless. Carbon dating the Prothean technology has been difficult due to the unfamiliarity with the materials they used, hence the common perception that they were supremely ancient.

This is the last thing on Tela Vasir's mind, but she does appreciate that the wonder materials the Protheans used provide excellent cover. The high wall in front of the beacon has taken a direct hit from one of those disc weapons and hasn't even warmed up. The Protheans knew their shit.

The circular Maybe-Amphitheatre of the Beacon is littered with dead Zudjari, and more keep coming in. Saren has been busy, using the covering fire from Vasir to launch spheres from the underslung launcher on his rifle.

Holding her pistol above the wall, she drops another Zudjari with a blind fire. "This isn't resembling Illium at all!" she yells.

"I told you!" he yells back, pumping the grenade launcher and launching another projectile, "Vasir! Mute!"

Vasir jams down on her omnitool, and the world drains of sound. She _feels_ the wave slam against her barriers instead of hearing it, and after several seconds rises. The amphitheater is collapsed, around and on the zudjari hordes. She taps her omnitool and sound returns, Vasir letting out a breath as she leans against the gilded white wall.

"Well, that bought us some time," Saren says, "It will take their groupmind time to process a loss of this size."

Vasir nods. Then narrows her eyes. "Question, then. How do you know so much about the Zudjari."

She hears the whine and turns, staring down the barrel of Saren's pistol. "That's because I command them," he responds. There is a cerulean flash, and then silence.

* * *

The muzzle of the gun flashes, and Vasir falls backwards- her barriers take most of the hit, a second shot from the gun spraying blue blood from her armor. Raising the gun, Saren allows his mandibles to twitch, aiming between the eyes. It is not that he _hates_ her. He just knows how _difficult_ putting her down is going to be. But he has the explosives for a reason.

Then he sees the twitch of motion, the distortion. He turns, and stares straight at the newly arrived GREMLIN drone the instant before it discharges its entire capacitor bank directly in his face.

Saren screams, dropping the pistol, grabbing at his face and feeling his plates spark like they were on fire. There is a brief purple glow, and he opens one eye before Jane Shepard drops onto him, repeatedly punching him in the face.

Saren grabs her by the collar of her armor, pulling her off with one hand. "Imaginative. Impressive. But still too-"

"Zap him again!" she yells.

The GREMLIN obeys, and Saren screams, smoke rising off his scales.

Which is then followed by him choking when Tela grabs him in a headlock from behind. "Should've started with the _fucking explosives,_ Saren," she purrs, "Not the first time someone shot me in the face."

Saren tries to get out a curse, cut short by another electric shock. "So here's how we're going to play this," Tela says, "You're going to give up. Then I'm going to choke you out, we're going to get aboard the Normandy, and you're going to explain to the Council how out of your fucking mind you are."

Saren growls, gutteral, struggling under the surprisingly strong Vasir. "Nice save," Tela adds, winking at Jane, "I was falling back to get him in the kneecaps but you gave me a better opening."

"Least I could do," Jane says, tapping her omnitool and rewarded by another turian curse and a blast of electricity, "You okay?"

"I'm fine. You're great!" She grins, flashing teeth at Jane. "In fact, you passed my test!"

Jane beams. Saren tries to swear again, but the air around him flows purple. "And there he is," Jane says. Oppressive vermillion energy swirls around the turian, his eyes glowing.

" _Your will is mine."_

Something flows over them- powerful and intense. Indigo and white followed by the fluttering of crimson robes.

" _Your thoughts are mine."_

They hear it- Tela and Shepard at the edge of their thoughts, and Saren at the center of his mind, expanding outwards like thick ink in water. _IalamosSavariOpalisamAsaruYblesen._ They look up- Tela and Jane look up. Saren freezes in place. Ialamos floats above them.

" _Your mind is_ _ **mine.**_ _Saren. Kneel."_

The Ethereals are worshiped as _gods_ among the Adventium, among many races in Citadel Space. And for good reason. Against the unfathomable will of the ancient, powerful alien, the will of Saren breaks.

But as his thoughts are subsumed, he lets the Ethereal in. Shows him his thoughts. Hovering above, the hand of the Ethereal recoils as if burnt by fire.

" _No!"_

And in those thoughts it sees the face of something great and terrible and **metal black**. Saren's eyes glow, from purple to red. He speaks, and his voice is several octaves lower and not his own.

" **We do not kneel before failed gods."** And even in Vasir's deathgrip, under the assault of Shepard's GREMLIN, Saren reaches out to the ancient obelisk. It pulses, green lines running up it.

"He's activating the Beacon!"

It flashes, and they see the end of all things.

* * *

She saw it. She saw it all. An empire spanning a galaxy, screaming out in terror before silence and the thud. But the thud was not the empire- it was her, piercing her chest and ending the vision of chaos and bloodshed with all-consuming pain.

She sees the red tinted blue sky, tasting copper in her mouth. Straining, neck cracking, she looks down- to see she is on her back, looking down upon the ruined, cracked Beacon. At Vasir, slumped and prone against one of the walls surrounding the beacon. At Ialamos, one hand extended towards the beacon, in a pool of thick, indigo blood.

Jane lets her head roll back, and each breath becomes more labored, more forced. Black creeps in along the red, and darkness floods her vision with an almost welcome finality.

But in the blackness, she sees something. White and blue, like a rippling pond. A face, human but more, looking upon her- not from on high, but right in front of her. A voice, human, haunted, but carrying power she feels like electricity on her spine.

"Be more," the voice says, "No who you are, but who you can be."

Even in the darkness, between tick and tock, she feels like she's only a tertiary part of this. "Who are you?" she asks.

The woman smiles. It is a pleasant smile, and somehow Jane knows she's one of the rare few to see it.

"Annette."

Jane's eyes open. Her breath labors but she pushes herself. She pushes herself off of her elbow, gasping, fresh pain running through her ribs where the bullet- or multiple bullets- hit. She forces herself onto her stomach and drags herself- past Vasir, towards the Ethereal.

Towards the outstretched hand which she realizes was not pointed at the Beacon.

The hand was stretched out towards her.

So, Jane Shepard- XCOM dropout, Chryssalid whisperer, Commander, Ethereal Comedian, takes the hand. The light and psionic pulse is enough to be seen from orbit, and when it clears the robes are empty.

And when the Normandy arrives, she is unconscious once again.

* * *

 **End Chapter 1**


	2. A Plethora of Creepy Companions

_A/N: I've actually been a very active writer, I've just been writing on message boards and the like._

 **Codex Entry: Psionics**

 _Psionics are the subset of abilities that allow a person with sufficient willpower to use what is believed to be Elerium-based technology to influence the behavior of animate beings and the nature of inanimate objects. In the Systems Alliance, XCOM is noted as the authority on Psionic abilities and training methods due to Dr. Moira Vahlen's discovery of psionic awakenings during the First Alien War. Psionics are Awakened when a human with sufficient potential is exposed to active Elerium, with side effects that include brief periods of unconsciousness, hypothermia, and powerful hallucinations. While XCOM uses a Class system to denote the power level of Psionic Operatives and Civilian Psionics, the chart goes from 0 (Psionic Sensitivity) to 10 (Magus), with a Class X to denote beings with power equal to the Volunteer (see: INSUFFICIENT CLEARANCE) or the Prime Ethereal (see: Temple Ship). When asked about the nature of the psionics, XCOM R &D Chief Noli Tygan said, following the Shanxi Engagement, "We are still guessing as to the exact nature of Psionics. While we originally labeled these abilities as 'Psychic' due to the first observed use of mind control, it is typical of our arrogance that we believed it was only the power to control and influence minds. What we are observing is far more widespread, far more potent, than that. If there are any beings in the greater universe who could tell us what these abilities are, it is the Ethereals. And even they may not know."_

* * *

Fingers tap on the white desk. The vermilion light of the Widow Nebula plays against the white lights of the Presidium, muting out the frequent lights of the spaceship traffic. As the fingers tap, the hollow sound echoes in the clean, pristine office. White coat going past his knees, other hand folded into a fist against his back, the balding, older man looks up at David Anderson.

Anderson's hands are folded behind him. His gaze both on the ambassador and past him.

"Anderson," Donnel Udina says, "This is a clusterfuck."

Anderson nods, sighing. Eyes closed, shoulders heavy. "I agree with you on that, Ambassador."

"The Beacon destroyed. Eden Prime attacked." Udina taps his fingers again. "Has Shepard woken up yet?"

Anderson shakes his head. "Neither has Vasir. Have the technicians-"

"Salvaged Vasir's suit camera?" Udina shakes his head. "However, they found a redundant one which was not fried, but the image is vague at best." He raises a finger before Anderson can speak. "However, Shepard _did_ transmit from her GREMLIN before the beacon was activated, so we have proof of Saren's actions."

Anderson nods.

"So," Udina continues, "Good instincts. Shepard will make a good Spectre, if she wakes up."

Udina turns to the window, both hands clasped behind him, wrinkles on the gloves indicating how tight the grip is.

"What about the dead Ethereal?" Anderson asks, "How angry is the Adventium?"

Udina hums. "Oddly? Not at all," he says, "Probably related to the Adventium Councilor taking Shepard as soon as the Normandy docked." His left hand beeps, and he raises it, revealing the omnitool. "The Adventium have released Shepard. According to them, she's been delivered to her apartment, and Chakwas is with her."

Anderson is gone by the time Udina has turned around. Udina sighs and pulls his chair back, sitting in it. He taps his omnitool again. "I need to see the Turian Councilor. And a bottle of Dextro alcohol."

" _Understood Ambassador,"_ the cheerful, female voice says, " _Anything else?"_

Udina grunts. "And the local XCOM field commander."

* * *

 **Chapter 2:**

 **A Plethora of Creepy Companions**

* * *

For most people, waking up to the sight of a serpentine woman who could swallow her whole would be a shock. Possibly heart attack inducing. At very least it would get them to back up, screaming bloody murder.

For Jane Shepard, it means that she's either on the Normandy or somewhere close, because she weakly smiles at the face of her friend and doctor. "Chakwas?" she asks, voice dry.

The Viper smiles, flicking her tongue and pressing a bag of water into Jane's hand. "Drink first," the chief medical officer of the Normandy says, faint hiss to her voice, "You've been unconscious for three days."

Many ships, especially Alliance ships, would pause at the prospect of an eight foot snake woman with decidedly mammalian mammaries as the chief medical office. David Anderson would then point out that they are _venom_ _sacks,_ and that Challin Chakwas has an _excellent_ bedside manner. While rumors abound, the fact of the matter is that Chakwas views the crew of the Normandy as her children.

Her stupid, stupid, accident prone children.

Jane greedily empties the water bag, sitting up as she does so. That Chakwas' three fingered hand does not come down on her to pin her in place is the best sign she can get that she's not going to die.

"So to catch you up," the doctor says, sliding across the apartment, from the bed to the mini kitchen, "You've been unconscious for the past three days. Lieutenant Alenko has been asking for updates hourly, as has Chief Williams."

Jane swings her legs over the edge of the bed. Somehow, she's dressed in her blue, Alliance sweats. She didn't have those on under her armor. Who dressed her?

"Williams? She's onboard?"

Chakwas nods, handing Jane a cup of some sort of bitter brown liquid which Jane greedily drinks, and then realizes is not coffee but medicine. Watching the redhead choke, the snake doctor cocks an eyebrow and purses her lips. "Yes. She asked to transfer, and Anderson accepted, what with Jenkins..."

Jane chokes, looking up. "Jenkins died?!"

"No, no. He was wounded, severely," Chakwas responds, patting Jane on the shoulder, "The Titan armor that Alenko had him in saved his life, though he does have a long recovery ahead of him." Chakwas cups Jane's chin, turning her side to side. "Right. Anderson will be here to debrief you, shortly. My Omnitool's set to your vitals, so I can be back if there's _any_ change."

Jane nods. Turning, Chakwas slithers, slides out of the apartment, and on the way out she waves her omnitool at the bathroom door. The red circle turns green, and it opens just fast enough to not trip out the charging, four legged cuddle bundle that immediately tackle hugs her, chirping excitedly and pressing its head tentacles against her face.

Jane grins, petting her pet chryssalid, letting the tackle carry her onto her back. She lets the excited chirps and skrees become typical background noise, along with-

 _"Feed me feed me feed me feed me!"_

Jane blinks. What was that-

" _Feed me feed me feed me feed me!"_

Jane looks down, slowly. Very slowly. She looks into the glowing, four puppy dog eyes of the chryssalid.

She hears the chirps and skrees. But she also hears, at the very back of her mind,

" _You haven't fed me in forever and I counted!"_

Which is all the prompting Jane needs to respond with a short, flat,

"What."

* * *

Jane Shepard is an engineer. She solves practical problems. Which means that every problem, every situation, has a solution. Or, at least, an explanation.

The remains of a varren loaf are now smudges on Chirples mandibles, and Jane sits, lotus position, across from her pet and companion. Hypothesis the first: She can now understand Chryssalids. Perhaps she can _speak_ Chryssalid?

"Skree. Chirp chirp skree," she says.

Chirples tilts his head. She hears, as an after-echo, in her own voice, " _Tax benefits."_

Chirples chirp-skrees. She hears an after echo of, " _What."_

"Skree chirp skree chirp chirp?" she asks.

The chryssalid tilts his head the other way. Again, she hears an after echo in her own voice.

" _Tittikaka."_

Chirples chirrups. She hears an after echo of, " _Why you do this?"_

"Sorry," she sighs, and the chryssalid chirrups an acknowledgment. Hypothesis disproved. Her musings are cut short when the door chimes, and she climbs to her feet, walking across the apartment and tapping the green button next to the door itself.

"Anderson?"

" _C-Sec,"_ comes the reply, in the form of a low, deep and most of all smooth voice, " _Commander Shepard, do you have a moment?"_

Jane cocks an eyebrow. She looks down at her sweats, and rubs the bridge of her nose. She taps the door open button and is once more reminded that every turian she meets seems to wear some form of armor. It's either because of the jobs, or maybe they just like metal.

But this one is no exception. The catbird faced metal alien- this one with blue markings on his face- clicks his mandibles, looking at her, and then to the chryssalid staring at him.

"Huh," he says, "Is that a Chocolate Reaver?"

She nods. "Yeah, he's my pet."

"Smart breed," he responds, "I had a golden opal, and he was nice but he was the dumbest thing on four legs." He coughs, clears his throat, and clicks his mandibles. "Garrus Vakarian, C-Sec. Long story short, I'm trying to find out what happened with Saren Aterius."

Jane cocks an eyebrow.

"Let me buy you a drink," he adds.

Jane quirks her lips. "Five minutes," she says, "Let me change."

* * *

The flat heels of his shoes clap along the white archways of the presidium bridge. Above, he can see the floating symbol, the stick figure of an Ethereal, four arms open and holding four other hands, each of a different species. The symbol of the Adventium, the Ethereal government. Or, as it's called when one wants to be derogatory, the Ethereal Empire.

He is an ambassador, however, and so he must be polite and proper. Standing in front of the reception desk of the embassy, he locks eyes with the Viper manning the console, a headset folded out into a mic and earpiece so she can juggle the multiple communications and requests sent at any-

And then he feels it. Pressure. Pressure pulling him up. Not physically, but mentally. A massive, psionic presence at the back of his mind that blackens the world around him.

" **Can you hear me?"**

 _Yes,_ he thinks back.

The world is illuminated by a spotlight. A spotlight equally orange and blue, illuminating a forever silhouetted figure sitting behind a desk.

"Ambassador Udina," he says in a low, scratchy, commanding voice, "The crisis on Eden Prime is the first of many."

 _I understand._ He does not speak in these meetings. He is still present in the physical world, and wouldn't want to be seen talking to himself. _Who has been chosen?_

"David Anderson."

Upon the pronouncement, Donnel Udina thinks long and hard. He comes to the most logical conclusion, given the implications.

 _Well shit._

And the world becomes the embassy once again. The Viper snaps her fingers in front of Udina's face, and he glares at her.

"The Councilor is ready to see you now," she says.

Udina nods, grunts an acknowledgement, and walks down the green lit path to the double doors at the center of the embassy.

* * *

"Why are we in the Wards?" Perhaps her uniform- the blue jacket, uniform pants, gold pips to denote her rank as Commander- was a bit much. She can, in fact, hear herself over the _OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ_ of the trance music playing from every corner in the bar. "Isn't this where they dispose of the bodies?"

"Nah." Garrus flicks his mandibles, walking alongside her. "This is where they feed the bodies into the grinder if they're too conspicuous to dispose of."

She's only known him for a few minutes, but there's that part of Jane that wishes she could draw upon that family tradition of mad science and implant Garrus' voice into Alenko, and thus have the ultimate boyfriend. But she doesn't have a boyfriend, she thinks, and why is she thinking that? Must be the coma. Or the fact that she can hear Chryssalid thoughts.

"Anyway," Garrus continues, "This is Chora's Den. Good source of information." He coughs, brushing past a hanar flirting with a volus. "So, don't drink anything anyone offers you. Not because it might be poisoned but because they serve Dextro and Levo here."

"Someone once tricked me into drinking a dextro cocktail during my N3 training," she says with a smirk, "Didn't leave the bathroom for twelve hours."

"Same. Levo. C-Sec training."

They walk side by side, past a trio of sectoids that look fervently for their pants, past a Muton getting into an arm wrestling contest with three Vorcha. "We are conspicuous," she murmurs.

"I'm in armor and you're in uniform. Of course we are." Garrus grins. "It means people will get nervous, and they'll slip up."

The light show disorients as much as the music, barely illuminating the asari dancers on tables, and giving Jane pause when they reach the bar. The bartender is human. Or looks human. Eyes go for the throat and she takes a step back, recognizing the tell-tale patterns on the throat.

"So stop me if you've heard this before," the bartender says, pushing up his sunglasses, "A cop and a Spectre walk into the bar. The bartender says, 'What can I get you?'"

"Just information, Chora." Garrus leans on the bar, staring at the Thin Man's shades. "Any word from Fist's benefactor?"

The bartender grins, an unnaturally wide smile. "Ask him," he says, and thumbs over to the turtle man leaning on the bar a handful of seats down.

A Krogan, Jane realizes. Built like a tank, but wired like a cannon. Red eyes, red crest, and red armor, staring at a half empty bottle of glowing liquid which she could easily mistake for fuel. One eye stares at them, and the Krogan snorts, as a well dressed man in black and grays walks out, the bar between them.

"Fist," the krogan growls.

"Wrex," the human says, "What do you want?"

The Krogan grins. "Got a message from the Shadow Broker."

The human nods, hands on the bar, eyes narrowing.

"What does the Broker want?"

"He wants me to pop your head off like a bottle cap and shove it so far up your ass it comes out your neck." Wrex chuckles, idly running his finger on the rim of his glass. "Okay, well. Really, the Broker just wants you dead. That's just how I'd do it."

Fist scowls. At least, attempts to scowl, but his best angry face pales in comparison to the placid, scarred mass of crag in front of him. "Get out of my fucking bar before I call C-Sec on you," he growls, turns, and walks. Past the bar, into a red-lit hallway behind it.

Chora snickers, and Jane walks over, cocking an eyebrow. "Excuse me-" she starts, but stops when the Krogan growls.

"For crying out loud, you meld with one Asari and everyone thinks you fancy the four fingers," he mutters, pouring himself another drink. Then he turns his red eye from her to the turian behind her. "Speaking of cross-species pollination. Garrus."

"Wrex." Garrus harrumphs, folding his arms. "Did you just _threaten_ Fist in his own bar?"

"Sure did." Wrex pours the drink, and then takes a pull from his bottle. "I'm Krogan, after all. I'm violent, brash, loud, obvious. Probably drunk, too." Then he drains the shotglass. "And if rumors are to be believed, I can't even get on the Extranet without a getting my omnitool just loaded up with viruses and shit like that."

Jane opens her mouth to comment on how that is probably every Krogan stereotype she's heard, but is cut off by Fist screaming-

" _Oh God!"_

And then the sounds of heavy guns firing, followed by a body dropping to the floor.

"So there's no way I'm responsible for Fist being killed by his own security turrets." Wrex taps up his omnitool, and nods. "My work here is done."

"Damn it, Wrex, I needed to shake down Fist for information," Garrus mutters. He sighs, shoulders slumping. "Well, we'll just have to go through his desk when C-Sec gets here. Stay here, Wrex."

"Kiss my round craggy ass, Garrus." Wrex taps his omnitool again, and vanishes in a flash of light.

Garrus is silent for several moments. "The Zudjari were using those," Jane says, and reaches under her uniform jacket to unholster her pistol. "Come on, let's loot the office."

* * *

The Adventium Councilor is creepy. Very creepy. At the same time, to the surprise of humans when they first encountered the Adventium, not an Ethereal. Instead, the Councilor is a squat, small, well dressed humanoid with gray skin, an oversized head, and no mouth. The back of its head glows with purple and crimson light, its three fingered hands on the armrests of the crystalline throne at the center of the otherwise white room.

Flanking the Councilor are two Ethereals, floating in identical crimson robes and arms folded across their chests.

The crystals hum and flicker, and the Councilor raises a hand in greetings. "Welcome, Ambassador," Councilor Opheg says, "As always, our condolences regarding the unprovoked attack upon Eden Prime. How may we help you?"

Udina clears his throat, clicks his heels, and gives a short, slow nod. A typical greeting of respect among Sectoids, but he is never quite sure how much the Councilor is a Sectoid and how much it is something...else. "The Systems Alliance appreciates your condolences, and offers condolences for the loss of the Eidoleon's ship and crew, and the loss of the Eidoleon."

The crystal chair flickers. The Sectoid nods. "We accept your condolences. For the ship, which served the Adventium well. For the crew, who shall be missed by their Shipmaster for they served him well. But we do not mourn the Eidoleon. For flesh is temporary, and the spirit lives on."

Internally, Udina sighs. And maybe screams, for this is the closest he's going to get regarding a straight answer on why the Adventium isn't on a warpath over the death of an Ethereal. May as well move along.

"What is the Adventium's interest is Commander Shepard?" Udina asks, fixing the Sectoid with a gaze, folding his hands behind him. "An _Ethereal,_ who was without escort, personally took custody of an unconscious Shepard when the Normandy docked, and then had her returned to her quarters three days later."

The chair flickers and the Sectoid nods. Short, and slow. Respect shown. "Shepard sought help on Eden Prime. The New One answered. The New One does not answer us."

The New One? Udina thinks on that. Thinks on the meaning of the term. The New One? Why does that seem familiar? "The New One?" he asks, "What do you mean, the New One?"

The Sectoid raises its hands, tenting them. The chair flickers. "Perhaps the Systems Alliance refers to the destroyer of the Temple Ship by a different title?"

And Udina actually lets the surprise show on his face, and he breaks diplomatic decorum. Given the circumstances it is understandable, and neither the Councilor of the Ethereals show disapproval.

"Well son of a _bitch,_ " he breathes, "The Volunteer."

* * *

They went through Fist's desk and found a communications log between Fist and a representative of the Shadow Broker, regarding a Quarian girl. Promising, as the Alliance- or more particularly XCOM- were on good terms. She made a mental note to contact Kaidan, and have his contacts follow up on the Quarian. The turian had paperwork, and she had a headache, and Jane Shepard keeps going over the situation in her head as she walks out of the elevator, walking down the apartment building hallway towards her-

" _REEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEE-"_ _clatter-clatter-clatter_

She heard that. Not just the thoughts but the high pitched shrieking coming from overhead. Thankfully still in the general vicinity of her apartment which means he hasn't punched through the duct grates. "God dammit he got into the Sad Cabinet."

She sprints down the corridor, opening the door and darting into her apartment. Immediately, her eyes go to the fridge- and she sees that it is still whole, unmolested, no holes. Which means no fridge demons. But, the cabinet above the fridge has a Chirples-sized hole in it.

Thankfully, what she keeps in that cabinet- freeze dried ice cream, snacks, ramen, and other comfort foods- are so loaded in chemicals even a Chryssalid egg can't find any purchase-

" _REEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"_ _clatterclatterclatter_

On the other hand, a sugar loaded chryssalid is now bouncing around the ductwork in the ceiling. "Chirples you get down here right-"

"Commander Shepard?"

She turns to the doorway and sees the Quarian girl standing in it. Shorter than her, wide hips, patch on her arm and in a gray and lavender encounter suit that for some reason has a hip skirt, but Jane's honestly only met a handful of Quarians in her life anyway so that's probably normal-

 _clatterclatterclatter_

Both look up. The quarian girl sighs. "You were just in Fist's office," the quarian says, raising a hand and a finger, "You're looking for me."

"Why am I looking for you?" Jane asks, folding her arms.

"Because I have audio proof that Saren has gone...what's the word..." She taps her fingers together, "Rouge? Red?"

"Rogue?"

The girl nods, the mouth piece on her helmet glowing. She adjusts her hood and the mouth piece glows again-

 _clatterclatterclatter_

"Bosh'tet," the girl says, "Excuse me, they're probably stuck up there!" The girl climbs onto the fridge, grabbing onto the hole in the cabinet and peaking her head into the ductwork above.

"Um, what are you doing-" Jane starts.

"It's the Hopper who's been following me," the girl calls back, "They've got a shitty sense of direction and they keep getting lost in the ducts and-"

 _"REEEEEEEEEEE-"_

Which, to Jane's newly acquired ability to translate the thoughts and words of her four legged, cuddle happy companion, is rendered in the back of her mind, via echo and mental emanation, as exactly what she thought it would.

" _HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGS!"_

True fact: Chryssalids are anti-cats. Where a cat keeps its spine compressed to allow astounding flexibility, a chryssalid keeps theirs extended, so when they leap at something they can compress themselves to allow maximum impact. Hence, when Chirples launches himself at the quarian, he is almost half his normal size, and wrapped completely around her head.

Which does nothing to muffle her scream when she falls out of the duct and to the floor with Chirples hugging her face.

* * *

 **Codex Entry: Slarak**

 _The Slarak (pronounces Lalak) are the supposedly unmodified versions of the aliens known as the Thin Men in the First Alien War, with the males (Thin Men) and females (Vipers) possessing one of the most exaggerated versions of sexual dimorphism currently observed among spacefaring species. When encountering the Slarak, humans were surprised by how similar the Thin Men were to their infiltrator and shock-trooper counterparts, with the only observed modification the removal of pheromone glands which, when combined with their natural flexibility, turn them into what is described as 'Sexual Chocolate'. However, this dimorphism, combined with their bi-chirality, has lead to several theories as to their origins, with the predominant being that the Slarak species as it is currently known was the result of Temple Ship modifications, with the population descended from a breeding population left behind on their current homeworld. It should be noted that little of this theorizing comes from the Slarak, who as a society do not concern themselves with their origins. Thin Men are noted hedonists, which combined with the bizarre method of reproduction performed with Vipers leads to them being very popular with females of several species. Vipers, due to the medicinal properties of their naturally produced 'venom', and societal pressures towards families, are a common sight in in medical professionals. Additionally, with their wide lower body musculature, large bust (see: Venom Glands), and natural undulating movements, they are also second to the Asari as subjects of interspecies romances in media, such as the long-running romantic comedy "Sam and Shallie," about a Human trying to fit in with his Viper wife's family, while going to ridiculous lengths to hide his past as an XCOM soldier._

* * *

The shrieking comes out almost metallic, impossibly high pitched, with a tremor that resembles a movie monster more than a living being. In contrast, the Chryssalid's chirps are significantly softer, and at least thanks to the current weirdness that is Jane Shepard's life much more understandable.

 _"HELLO MY NAME IS CHIRPLES AND I ALREADY LOVE YOU."_

"Chirples! Get off her, _right now!"_

She may not be able to _speak_ Chryssalid, but she is a pet owner, and a responsible one. She can't tell whether or not her room mate, companion, and cuddle junkie can _understand_ her words, but he certainly gets _tone._ Hence, Chirples quickly disengages, lengthening his spine and skittering off his newest cuddle target. The quarian girl doesn't stop screaming, scrambling up against the bed and pointing an accusing finger at the mantis like pet.

" _What?! Is?! THAT?!"_

"He's Chirples, he's my pet chryssalid-"

" _Why do you have a pet chryssalid?!"_

She did take a course on comparative xenobiology, so she knows that the Quarian homeworld had no insects or arachnids. It's possible that the freakout is due to that. And Chirples hugging her face.

"Can I get you something to drink? Water?" Jane shrugs, Chirples having taken up position behind her. Screams have become high pitched yelps and eeps, and then Jane hears a soft clicking behind her and turns to stare at the single, unblinking eye. And then it's Jane's turn to back away, drop onto her seat, and scream at the _Geth_ that is now in her apartment.

The Geth raises two plates on either side of its glowing eye, and sits down with deliberate, natural and languid motions. Chirples skitters in front of Jane, lengthening his spine and making a loud chirrup, which Jane translates as " _Go ahead bitch, try something"_ in deed if not in word.

The front door shifts, vibrates, and opens. Pistol first, Kaidan Alenko enters, with a shout of, " _Commander!"_

The Geth turns its head to Kaidan, the white light shrinking in time with an iris closing. "No!" The quarian waves her omnitool, on all fours and waving at the Geth. "Stand down you bosh'tet! Stand down and _lie down!_ "

The Geth obeys, stretching its limbs out, arcing its back and curling itself into a compact ball. The eye goes dim and the Geth goes quiet. The quarian girl lets out a held breath. "Okay, they're in low-power mode," she says, eyes still on Chirples, who stands taller and chirrups in victory.

Jane coughs. Chirples turns to her, and squats down, giving her four glowing puppy dog eyes. "Captain Anderson wants to see you," Kaidan interrupts, holstering his pistol, "And...what did I just walk into?"

Jane sighs, picking herself up off the floor. She extends a hand and helps the girl up. "This is..." Jane gives her a questioning look.

"Tali'Zorah nar Rayya," the girl says, "I have audio proof Saren has gone Rogue."

Kaidan nods. "Bring her, too."

* * *

David Anderson stands in the office of Ambassador Udina, and briefly wonders if he could, say, access his computer and look up what sort of fetish sites Udina visits on the Extranet. But, on the other hand, Udina would probably have some sort of protection on his search protocols. Like having no such links due to being very boring.

He folds his arms, leans against the desk, and waits. And then he feels it, the faint pulling, and the world goes dark. The light comes down from on high, and illuminates the silhouette of the man at a desk.

"Captain Anderson."

Anderson clasps his hands behind him and nods. "So. I've been chosen?"

The silhouetted man seems to shift in place- no apparent motion, but there seems to be a change. Even staring at him, Anderson feels something...off. "You are aware of what this is."

"I've been around a while." He allows himself a small grin. "You'd be surprised who I talk to."

"Then we will cut to the chase, then." The hands fold in front of the face. He hears the sound of cracking knuckles. "There is a crisis underway. We require leadership, unconnected with the organization. Insight and ability which has been overlooked intentionally, to better direct forces in the days to come."

Anderson nods. "I accept. However, I have one condition."

"We have seen your request. It is acceptable." The hands lower to the desk. "A full inventory of the resources available will be sent to you. We have much work to do."

The room, the world, goes black. Intentionally, Anderson thinks, to add dramatic weight to the last word.

"Commander."

Anderson opens his eyes and finds himself back in Udina's office, just as Udina enters. "So you've been contacted," Udina says, walking past Anderson and to his desk. Anderson turns on one heel, following the ambassador as he sits down.

"You knew?"

"He contacted me before he contacted you. That's why I called you to the office, so you don't look like you're talking to yourself."

Anderson blinks. He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Right. I forget you were-"

Udina raises a finger. He leans forward and folds his hands over his mouth. "As you imagine," he says, "We will not make your...temporary promotion to Field Commander a matter of public knowledge."

Anderson nods, folding his hands behind him. "I will have to step down as Captain of the Normandy." He narrows eyes, a far off look. "And I have an idea for a cover story."

* * *

Chirples was left back at the apartment, keeping a careful watch on the shut down Geth. Staring it down with four glowing eyes and claws at ready to defend its master, food, and territory from this synthetic intruder.

Jane walks alongside Tali, Alenko following. Both are quiet, and Kaidan would clearly be concerned if not for the fact that the two have their omnitools out and the screens hovering over their eyes, and have been talking via text the entire walk over.

XOShepard: So what's with the screen name?

SpacePrincessTali: Friend suggested it. My father's an Admiral.

XOShepard: I knew the last name sounded familiar!

SpacePrincessTali: I think you're the first human who recognized it. -_- You're not one of those quarian fetishists, are you?

XOShepard: Not yet~

SpacePrincessTali: Good answer. So anyway, I find this Geth and it's been possessed by something- Korval is yelling at me to hack it, like my omnitool's a wand or something.

XOShepard: Tell me about it. No idea how many times Jenkins yelled at me to hack a batarian mech like I can just take it over that easily.

SpacePrincessTali: I know, right? So he's yelling, and the Geth is shooting at us, and I throw a flash grenade at it and rush at it.

XOShepard: Let me guess, hardline connection?

SpacePrincessTali: And here I thought there'd be a language barrier.

Jane and Tali both raise their fists, and briefly fist bump. Kaidan cocks an eyebrow, but thinks nothing of it. The walk leads them from the apartment blocks to the embassies, and to the green hued door which opens to reveal Captain Anderson and Ambassador Udina. Both girls switch off their omnitools, Jane standing at attention and Tali tapping her fingers together by her waist.

"Shepard," Udina says, inclining his head to Tali, "Who is she?"

"Ambassador, this is Tali," Jane says, hands folded behind her, "She has audio proof of Saren's betrayal. In addition, she was being hunted by Saren." Anderson and Udina both cock a skeptical eyebrow, and Jane continues. "I was approached by a C-Sec officer named Garrus Vakarian to accompany him to Chora's Den, which is owned by a former agent of the Shadow Broker. The Broker was approached by Tali for protection in exchange for the information, but Fist chose to contact Saren to hand her over to him."

"I was jumped by some agents of his after I arrived at the Citadel," Tali interrupts, "It wasn't pretty, so I contacted Fist. Turns out the bosh'tet's a backstabber."

"Which is probably why the Broker had him killed," Udina says, rubbing his chin, and taps his other hand on the desk, "Right. Well, that fills in the blanks. The audio evidence?"

Jane opens her mouth, but Tali folds her arms, tilts her hips, and narrows the glowing eyes behind her faceplate. "Oh no. I've been shot at, tackled, and face-hugged over the last day. I'm not giving anything until I get _guaranteed_ safety."

Anderson mouths 'face hugged' and stares at Shepard, who weakly shrugs. "We can do that," Udina says, hands folded in front of his mouth, "The Citadel wouldn't be safe. The Normandy would."

Anderson turns to the ambassador. "Vakarian already requested a posting," Udina says, "The moment he found what ship Shepard was on, he was chomping at the bit. We've also received a request from the Muton on Eden Prime to be transferred to the Normandy. Apparently he wants to serve with Williams."

Jane blinks, cocks her head slightly. "Okay," she says, and shrugs, "If Captain Anderson is fine with that."

Anderson coughs, and for the first time in memory, he seems uncomfortable. At least, to Jane's eyes. "I'm stepping down as Captain of the Normandy," he says, "The ship's yours, now." He straightens up, and nods to Udina. "Shepard. Let's take a walk."

* * *

The purple fingers take the glass, and raise it. "Ptaikos," he says, "He was the second helmsman of the ship. His youngest son has passed training, and will follow in his father's footsteps. His legacy will carry on."

Around the table, the dozen mutons and one human woman nod and call out. An untranslated bit of Muton language- loosely translated, it says, 'So it will,' but carries more meaning than that. Tsoriokos taught her how to pronounce it, before they came.

They raise their glasses and drink- it burns down Ash's throat, but is definitely not the strongest thing she's ever drunk. Not by a long shot. Which is good, because it joins the other two dozen empty shotglasses in front of her.

Tsoriokos raises another glass. "Oepika," he says, "She commanded the soldiers, and fought many battles. Her sons follow in her foot steps and strive to be recognized as elite. Her legacy will carry on."

The mutons and Ash call out, and drink. More drinks passed out, more names honored, and eventually Ash walks alongside the muton, out of the drinking hall and into the too-bright lights of the Presidium. "Thanks for inviting me," she says. Bereft of sarcasm, genuine.

Tsoriokos smiles and nods. "It gladdens me that you appreciate the ceremony," he says, "We keep the alcohol weak in these celebrations, so we can speak of many fallen. All of my crew, they all had children. Their children will carry on their lineage, much like you do."

Ash cocks an eyebrow. Walking alongside him, they pass an arguing pair of humans, a couple of Krogans trying to fish in the reservoir, and a Hanar, a giant pink jellyfish, being lectured at by a turian in C-Sec blues. "So what does that mean?" she asks.

Tsoriokos folds his arms over his broad chest, the purple of his uniform coat ruffling. "You are military. Like your father, like your grandfather before him."

Ash folds her arms and purses her lips. She opens her mouth to protest, which is, as according to fate, the point where the Hanar starts screaming.

* * *

" _This one! This one has seen the face of the Enkindlers! This one has seen the truth!"_ The turian C-Sec keeps yelling at the hanar to move along, the Muton and human walking over. He just watches from the balcony, holding up a detached sniper scope. No rifle- just people watching. Everyone needs a hobby.

Kind of funny when a Hanar goes nuts.

" _This one has seen the Metal Black and Anti-God! This one sees the song not sung, the sour note and silent chorus-"_

Which is when the turian shocks the Hanar, dropping it like a wet pink bag of rocks. And the human starts yelling at the turian until the Muton separates the two. "Fucking Muton. Wanted to see a fight."

Wrex closes the scope and twirls it in his hand. Pushing off the balcony, he walks back into his safehouse on the Presidium. Into the darkness, red eyes scanning side to side. The lights were on when he walked out.

"I paid the utilities," he growls.

"That's correct. I turned the lights off."

Urdnot Wrex is many things. Unarmed is not one of them. No sooner does the voice speak than he has a pistol in hand, firing towards the source. One bullet hits and dings on armor, the other shots hitting air.

His intruder, his guest, moves. Fast, quick. A punch towards the throat designed to disable, not kill. Metal and leather drive into the side of Wrex's neck and he feels his nerves fire, pain flaring through the entirety his body before going numb.

He then grabs the wrist and swings his intruder into the far wall.

"Two spines, bitch," he growls, and changes out the pistol for the shotgun he keeps in biotic pull distance, "So, let's have a talk. Lights."

The lights comes on, florescent lamps illuminating the sparse room. The fake walls he keeps his special gear behind, the simple floating screen for his soap operas, and the couch next to his mini fridge. Standing across from him is a man- a humanoid at least, in long white robes and a large straw hat obscuring his face.

"Yeah I saw you," Wrex grumbles, "You walked by that hanar before he started ranting. You slip him something?"

"Observant. Good." The accent is weird. Posture's off. Wrex keeps his hand on the stock but pulls his finger away from the trigger. "You have instincts. Skills. I want to hire you."

He lifts off the hat. Wrex cocks an eyebrow.

"The fuck are you?"

* * *

The hand, the artificial hand, whirs when he clenches it. Sitting up on the hospital bed, Richard Jenkins examines his new hand- the artificial skin has been set over it, and when he pokes the fingertips with his real hand's nails he can feel pain- or an approximation of pain.

So it _feels_ real.

He looks past the hand, at the two stumps resting under the covers. According to Alenko, the Titan suit was what kept him alive. And he was fighting well after anyone else would have collapsed from blood loss, and him being a...human wall like he that was the only reason they survived until the remaining Zudjari teleported out. Staring at the stumps, Jenkins listens to the sounds of the varied monitors, the floating screens that list off the amount of damage he took.

Enough that his military career is effectively over. "Mister Jenkins."

He glances at the door of his hospital room and stares at the woman who just entered. Then stares some more, and blinks. Tall, long black hair, and _holy crap he must be dreaming._ "Yeah?" he chokes.

The impossibly beautiful woman walks in- sashays in, every motion practiced and draining his will to question these circumstances. Draining it like with some sort of syringe. "Mister Jenkins, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Doctor Lawson. I'm from XCOM."

He makes a sound. Less a word and more a confused grunt. Holding up a datapad, she taps the screen, looking it over, the glasses on her face only accentuating the appearance of a drop-dead gorgeous scientist and Jenkins realizes it may be his newest fetish.

"So, you've been severely injured," she says, accent a purr running up and down his spine, "And your military career, as is, is effectively over. But, based on recommendations from Lieutenant Alenko, XCOM may have a use for you."

Jenkins nods. "Like...new limbs?" Well, he does have a voice. A squeaky voice.

"More than that," she says, folding the PDA under her arm, folding her arms under her chest, "We can rebuild you. We can make you more. I believe you saw one soldier who was in a similar situation when you were on Eden Prime."

Jenkins nods. The words click, and he remembers. Not robots, Alenko said.

 _Cyborgs._ And so, Richard Jenkins says the words that are most appropriate to the situation.

"Even in death I still serve."

Lawson narrows her eyes. Her small, knowing smile becomes a straight line. "You're not going to die."

Jenkins shrugs. Lawson sighs. "I'm not the first person to say that, am I?" he asks.

Lawson shakes her head with a put upon groan. "No. No you are not. _Bellator in Machina,_ Mister Jenkins." She holds out the PDA to him, with a long contract and waiver with a check box at the bottom. "Please go over the waiver before you-"

Jenkins clicks the check box. Lawson stares. And Jenkins looks past her to see, through the window of his hospital room door, Captain Anderson and Commander Shepard walk by.

* * *

As they walked, Jane listened. She listened to the reason why for some reason, Anderson was going to step down as CO of the Normandy, and she was going to be given her first ship command. Also, for some reason, Jane could focus on the story, and not the fact that _she was going to be given a command._ She, an XCOM dropout.

But she listens, walking with her commander along the white balconies of the Presidium, along paths she hasn't walked before. At least, hasn't walked without a leash and Chirples in a harness, walking with her companion along parks and lakes and taking in the nature and beauty of the heart of the galaxy.

"So, let me get this straight," she says, walking with Anderson through the doors, holographic letters above spelling out the name of the politician the hospital is named after this year, "You and Saren worked together. You were in Spectre training, and he sabotaged your mission, getting you drummed out of Spectre training." She taps her fingers against her palm, passing a female muton in doctors greens and two patients on hover beds she's pushing along.

Jane continues, holding up a finger. "And despite this being...ten? Twenty years ago? You think this will turn you into a vengeance obsessed and unprofessional maniac."

Anderson perks his lips, shifting the growing grin from side to side. They pass by a clear door, and Jane briefly glimpses a rather attractive woman talking with Jenkins.

"So," Anderson says, "Your opinion?"

Jane turns back to Anderson. "Permission to speak freely?"

"Granted."

" _Bullshit."_

Anderson's smirk becomes a smile. He nods, slowly, with a small laugh. "Yes. It is."

Jane props her hands on her hips. Almost as tall as him, considerably younger, Shepard still manages a _presence._ Which, when compared to David Anderson is much like a candle versus the targeting laser of a large gun, is still considerable.

"I can't tell you the real reason," he says, "Not yet. But I probably would have stepped down for this anyway."

He folds his arms, shuffling to the side. She does as well, a trio of waist high snake people followed by a proud Thin Man father passing by. "Shepard, I'm getting old," Anderson says with a sigh, "Sooner or later, I'm going to go from commanding a ship to commanding a desk. I'd rather that be on my terms."

"The Normandy costs more than some fleets, Captain."

Anderson nods. "Which is why I'm trusting her to you. I've already put through the commendations, Shepard. She's your ship, now."

He turns and continues walking. Jane sighs, slumps her shoulders and follows him, through the shuffling crowds of aliens and humans and doctors, and towards a particular hospital suite, where a familiar snake woman is waiting for them. "Chakwas," Anderson says, "Any change in status?"

Chakwas shakes her head, glancing from Anderson to Shepard. She cocks a hairless brow and narrows her eyes at Jane, giving her a verbose look that says, 'You'll tell me everything. And include alcohol.' "No changes," she says, opening the transparent door behind her and sliding in, "I'm not surprised. The doctors have fixed everything they could, but the damage was extensive."

Jane pushes ahead, past Anderson and next to Chakwas. Lying on the hospital bed, oxygen mask over her face, and the only sounds the faint beeping of the life support equipment, Tela Vasir rests. Within Jane, something wells.

Pity?

Sympathy?

Regret, for a potential mentor, potential friend?

"Oh _what the fuck-"_ Chakwas yells out.

No, Jane realizes. It was not any of those things.

No, it was an enormous sphere of violet light. Mirroring her long time friend and doctor's sentiments, Jane has time to yell out the exact same thing before the darkness overtakes her.

* * *

Darkness becomes light. Becomes memory. Not her own memory, but something built into a deeper memory. _I see,_ a voice says, but not her own, _I see. Very interesting._

Jane Shepard opens her eyes and finds herself on a train. A nice, sleek, shiny train circling a shiny city which is shiny enough for her to figure out is a metaphor. Or maybe something from the Beacon. She opens her eyes, looks down, and confirms she is not naked.

She then looks up and locks eyes with the Ethereal sitting across from her.

"Bwha?" It is, when all is said and done, a mature and sensible reaction to the situation. "Abwha?"

For one thing, the Ethereal is naked. Cloakless, sans helmet, it has its two smaller arms folded on its lap, and its two upper arms draped over the back of the seat. Its four eyes meet hers, and its shriveled, mouthless face cocks to the side, waiting for her response.

The Ethereal is also glowing bright blue. Jane is silent for several moments. Maybe minutes. Then she puts everything together.

"Eidoleon Ialamos?"

 _Ialamos was the name of the body I wore, and with its death the name will be remembered, but is not my true name._

The Ethereal gestures towards himself. Herself? Itself? And nods.

 _This is my true self, my self as it is outside of flesh. Please, call me Asaru._

Jane blinks. She is reasonably sure this is all in her head but she blinks anyway. "Are you in my head?"

 _Yes._

She's silent for several more minutes. "Oh my god. You gave me a straight answer." She rests her face in her hands with a groan. " _Anderson_ doesn't give me a straight answer but _the Ethereal in my head does."_

Asaru nods. _This is faster._

Asaru gestures towards her. She looks up, and between them there form pictures. Images. Framed images. "What are you doing?" she asks.

 _Trying to understand. Through images._

The images flow by. Still images. Ones she recognizes. "Are you going through my memories?"

 _Nothing private. I am looking for pictures._

She blinks. They are framed. As in, she recognizes the framing. "Those are family photos."

Asaru nods. The steady stream stops. A picture of her family, before she was born. Before her mother was born. Her grandfather, his brother- the one who settled on Mindoir during the great colonization rush. But when they were younger, in the prime of their life.

With them are their parents- her great-grandmother and great-grandfather.

 _Interesting._

"What? My family? My great-grandparents were dead before I was born." She cocks her head to the side. "I know my great gramdma worked for XCOM when she was younger."

 _The New One approached you. Smiled at you. She avoids us, shuns us._

Jane blinks. "Annette."

 _Her name when she was like you. She avoids contact. There is something..._

Asaru trails off. Another picture- of her great-grandparents. But younger. In their prime. A photo, but not framed like a family portrait. Rather, it is them. But there is also a stiff looking man in a green turtleneck, and an older man with receding white hair. Her great grandmother has a labcoat, and her hair is red, not gray, and her great grandfather...

Her great-grandfather is wearing a uniform. A gray and black uniform with a green sweater underneath the jacket, his own hair a reddish-brown and with a beard the same color. And Jane realizes she inherited some of his features. His nose, his smile.

 _Interesting._

"No shit," Jane responds.

The train, the metaphorical monorail, vanishes. Jane Shepard wakes up on the floor of the hospital room, surrounded by an equally flattened Chakwas and Anderson. She idly reaches a hand up, moaning from the headache.

"Well, you're just full of surprises."

A blue hand grabs Jane, and an awakened, healed, and hospital gown clad Tela Vasir pulls her to her feet.

* * *

Vasir was awake. Alive. Standing in the hospital room, and changed from her hospital gown and a green tunic and pants, arms folded and listening to Jane explaining what had occurred since the Beacon. Sans, of course, the Ethereal in her head or the fact that she could talk to her chryssalid.

"So the Quarian girl has audio evidence," Vasir says, counting off, "I have eyewitness testimony, and yours, and the video you got as well."

Jane nods. Vasir grins, and pads her fist into her palm. "Call up Vakarian. I wanna watch him giggle like a schoolgirl when he realizes we just nailed Saren. I'll schedule a meeting with the Councilors."

Jane nods, ear to ear smile on her face. She has a mentor. Multiple mentors, but one of her mentors is back. And approving of her, which gives her the fuzzies. Warm fuzzies. She turns to Chakwas and Anderson, opening her mouth to possibly repeat what Vasir just said in front of them, possibly to make some sort of declaration. She's not sure what.

But she notices that both of them- her friend and her other mentor, are standing several steps away from her and looking at her with concern. "What?" she asks, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Chakwas turns to Anderson. Anderson nods. And from a counter next to the door, Chakwas takes a mirror and slithers over, holding it up in front of Shepard.

Jane stares into the mirror. Her eyes go wide.

Her _purple_ eyes go wide, in particular at the sight of both the purple eyes and the shock white hair. Her response is sensible, measured, and completely understandable given the circumstances.

She screams, loud, long, and at length. Followed by a short, breathy,

" _Oh what the fuck."_

 **End Chapter 2**


	3. Adjective Noun

**Somewhere** between tick and tock, somewhere in the Velus System, there sits a space station orbiting a garden world. Flat and long and circular, prismatic bulbs along its underside providing gravity, light, environment, and the rest of the amenities needed for a research institute and school, the Vahlen Institute has long stood as both a haven for those with unusual and uncontrollable abilities, and a bastion for researchers across the Systems Alliance.

Somewhere between tick and tock, then and now, within a reinforced chamber deep within the Institute, there is a ripple of cerulean. Inside the cavernous chamber, reconstructed in painstaking detail from its original version back on Earth, there is the faint ripple along the altar at the center, and the white sphere that hovers silently above it as it has for the decades since the destruction of the Temple Ship.

Somewhere between one second and another, before and after, she appears- in her black armor, hand hovering in front of the Ethereal Device.

Or at least, what they called the Ethereal Device. When she touched it, she realized what it was. Something more. Old and powerful and the source of a rushing stream which opened her eyes. She closes her eyes and listens to its song, like bells on a shore. It sings for her- they sing for her, and when tick becomes tock, she is gone.

* * *

 **Entering Chat Room**

 **Participants: Shepard, Jane; Shepard, Hannah**

Jane: Mom, I'm Psionic!

Hannah: Hi Psionic, I'm Mom.

 **Jane has left the chat room.**

Hannah: Wait were you serious?

* * *

 **Chapter 3:**

 **Adjective Noun**

* * *

Ashley Williams heard things. She heard things regarding her new CO, and had to investigate. Walking down the hallway in the hospital, she walks past glass doors, opaque solitary suites, harried doctors and almost runs into an oddly familiar snake woman who she's sure was on the Normandy. Snake woman? Snekkie? Snaketits? She can't remember the term. Sighing and with balled fists, once more assured of her own ignorance, Ashley Williams walks to the hospital room that was set aside for Tela Vasir and taps the green circle.

It opens, and she sees things. Things it takes her a moment to process.

Looking down, she locks eyes with the chryssalid, who looks up with glowing puppy dog eyes and a friendly chirrup. She looks up.

Holding a plastic, bright pink basket filled with varied tubes, Kaidan Alenko nods in greeting. In his other hand is a towel and a lot of foil. His uniform sleeves are damp, and stained red. Sitting in a chair in front of the hospital room's sink is Jane Shepard, with metallic foil covering her hair and red staining the sink.

"So," Ash says, "I hear you popped your psionic cherry."

There is a white towel over Jane's face, steam wafting off of it. So, her response is a muffled " _Hrmph."_ Ash cocks an eyebrow, and turns to Kaidan.

"Is that hair dye?"

Kaidan nods. He holds up the basket, walking across the suite with Chirples at his heels. "I had to get some in Shepard's color. I didn't have any red, just black."

Ash nods. Then blinks, putting things together. "Wait. Alenko, _you_ dye your hair?"

"Psionics turns your hair white and your eyes purple." He walks over, leaning in and pulling back his hair. Ash narrows her eyes, and confirms yes, white roots. "Unfortunately, color contacts don't work on the eyes, but hair dye works fine."

"But the eyes are, you know, the ever present reminder that you can," Ash shrugs, miming the motions. Very lewd motions. "Bend reality over the table, stroke its hair and lie about just using the tip."

Kaidan nods. He clears his throat, and glances briefly to Shepard, then back to Ash. "Yes. Yes it is." He balls his hand and coughs. "So, need to ask. Ash, what's your opinion on psionics?"

Ash shrugs, rubbing the back of her neck. "I dunno. I mean, there's the whole power issue and-" And then she stands up straight, eyes wide. "No problem," she says in flat monotone, "I have no problem at all."

And she walks, arms and legs straight and with robot like motions out the door. Kaidan watches her go, eyes narrowed. "I didn't do that," he says, and turns to Shepard, "Did you do that?"

Shepard shrugs and gives a negative "Mrphl" from underneath the towel. Then the door opens and Ash peaks her head in.

"Hey, when you two are done, Udina wants us to get our butts over to the Tower."

* * *

She had the sneaking suspicion that, once they verified the data, once they determined that Saren had indeed gone rogue, the deliberation between the four Councilors was largely for show. She even gave them the opening they needed when they realized Saren would hide out in the Terminus Systems.

After all, if a fleet can't go into the Terminus Systems, surely one person could. It wasn't that it wasn't personal. The son of a bitch tried to kill her and is the main reason an Ethereal's in her head and she can hear Chirples' thoughts. But she is kind of sure the decision was made before she even showed up.

So, standing on the platform above the tower gardens, flanked by Anderson and Udina, and with crowds gathering on the balconies overlooking them all, Jane Shepard stands at attention.

"Captain Shepard," Councilor Tevos says, "It is the decision of this Council to grant you the privileges, responsibilities, and powers of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Citadel."

Each councilor follows with some sort of speech. Councilor Sparatus talks about how Spectres are trained. Councilor Valern makes a cryptic statement about terrible responsibility. The Adventium Councilor makes a statement even more cryptic which she doesn't dwell too much on. Something about light in the darkness or three sided swords.

"Thank you," she says with a nod. The audience in the stands applaud, and she turns on her heel to walk out, flanked by Udina and Anderson. Then, it catches up to her.

"Did they get my rank wrong?" she whispers, leaning in to Anderson.

"No," he whispers back, "Congratulations."

Kaidan and Ash follow close behind, so they don't see her pout, but they do hear the faint grumbles about being the last to know everything. The four of them enter the elevator, and the slow descent towards the Presidium proper begins.

"Alright, let's get this out of the way." Anderson doesn't even turn, but the three of them stand at attention. Jane, because she was his XO. Kaidan, because he's like that. Ash, because she knows better. "As a Spectre, you technically take orders from no one. But, you're still an Alliance officer, and hence drawing a salary."

"Who am I reporting to?" Jane is not the type to rock the boat or question authority. She is, however, the type who wants to clarify _who_ the authority is.

"Me, Udina, and Admiral Hackett, Fifth Fleet. Hackett's on the fast track to overall head of the fleet, so if he says jump-"

"I ask how high." Jane nods. "Understood."

"Also, the Councilors. Try not to piss them off." Anderson balls his fist and clears his throat. "Especially Sparatus. Saren going rogue is a sore spot for him." Floors tick by, slowly. Very slowly. "X-COM high command will also oversee this, due to the involvement of the Zudjari."

Jane creates a brief hypothesis that the disappearance of the Prothean race was due to them dying from starvation and dehydration in their elevators.

"Councilor Tevos also confirmed that the second voice in the recording was Matriarch Benezia T'Soni. Her daughter is a noted, if eccentric expert on Protheans. That, however, is not your first stop."

Jane nods. She turns her head slightly to her former CO. "What is?"

"The Vahlen Institute." Anderson smirks. "The Normandy is getting a special package."

* * *

Bosh'tet, as Tali had named the Geth, had taken up residence in a cleaned out maintenance closet which Tali had claimed as her clean room. Curled up and its single eye flickering on and off, the young quarian stares at the synthetic. Stares at it with purpose. Hardness. It wouldn't be wrong to describe such staring as dagger-like, even if the simile is not one native to the quarian people.

Instead, she walks past it, placing the small tote bag that has her current possessions and places them on the bed they had provided her with, while tapping on her omnitool to set up her extranet access point. She turns around, in front of the bed, and prepares to fall backwards. Sleep is hers to claim, and well earned it is.

Denied, too. Once the door chimes and Tali mutters an oath. She walks across the cabin, over Bosh'tet, and opens the door. An oddly handsome turian stands in front of the door, opening his mouth in greeting. But, Tali instead hears,

" _Reeeeeeee."_

She looks down, and sees Chirples standing in front of the turian, staring at her with four puppy dog eyes and a too many everythings.

"I think he likes you," the turian says.

Tali hisses, mouthpiece glowing in time with her feelings on the matter. The turian clears his throat and extends a hand. "Garrus Vakarian. I'm with C-Sec. I understand you got the audio evidence which nails Saren to the wall."

Tali cocks an eyebrow beneath her faceplate, and shakes the turian's hand. "I take it he wasn't the...ah...what's the term..." She shrugs, still shaking his hand. "Favorite son?"

"He was a bare-faced sonuvabitch in the best of times." Garrus twitches his mandibles, and shrugs. "I wanted to let you I appreciate what you did. And, with us being the only dextro people on the Normandy, I wanted to introduce myself."

Tali notices he hasn't let up on the handshake, either. Well, she might as well, keeps her from having to pay attention to the chryssalid. "Tali," she says, "Tali'Zorah. You can call me Tali."

The handshake ends, as awkward as it began. "Well, let know if you need anything," he says, and backs up before walking away. Underneath her helmet, Tali's lips quirk side to side, and she turns and walks back into her makeshift quarters.

A few seconds later, the doors to her quarters open again and she carries Chirples out, handing him to a human before walking back.

* * *

 **Codex Entry: Sectoids**

 _Hailing from the ocean world of Masilakana, the Sectoids are among xenobiologists known for two things: They are one of two naturally psionic, sapient races, and they possess a life cycle which has been described as 'deliciously bizarre.' Sectoids start as tadpoles, emerging by the hundreds from nests along the shorelines of Masilakana, and spend five to seven years in the ocean, where due to the trace Elerium present they develop their psionic abilities. Those that emerge from the waters emerge in their 'mature' state, which is comparable to the Sectoids that were fought by XCOM during the First Alien War, save for their walking upright and wearing clothing. Following a variable amount of time ranging from thirty to fifty years, Sectoids may enter one of three Elder states. The first, referred to as an Overseer, possesses vastly enhanced psionic powers and is similar to the Sectoid Commander. The second, referred to as a Protector, is one and a half times the height of a human, possessing hardened, leather like skin, a beak, and an instinctive protectiveness of its young. The third, referred to as a Core, is the most bizarre- the sectoid's limbs atrophy, forming into natural connectors, and allow the sectoid to be inserted into one of the many ancient mechanisms found on Masilakana, which include ships, ancient supercomputers, and suits of powered armor similar to the Mechtoids from the first alien war. Current theories suggest that the Sectoid race is an example of genetic manipulation, but despite both this and the implied presence of large elerium deposits, the Adventium does not allow further investigation, only saying that 'The darkness will not be breached.'_

* * *

The three sectoids, all clad in loose zipped jumpsuits, and each a different primary color, carry the hovering cart between them. Their eyes are glowing, symbolizing the mind link they share, and Jane watches them walk through the Normandy's airlock with the last of the supplies. She feels the tingle- like electricity off of the effortless psionics between the waist-high aliens.

Idly, she wonders if psionics feel this all the time. After all, _she_ is a psionic.

Ish. Looking down, she muses that most psionics don't have an ethereal in their head.

 _All Ethereals do._

"Sh."

"Captain."

Jane turns on one heel, and quickly moves to salute. Then stops, when she remembers that she is in fact a captain, and folds her hands behind her, puffing out her chest and standing straight. _She_ is the Captain now, after all.

As it is, staring straight ahead and standing tall gives her a good view of the Muton's chest. So, she looks up, and recognizes Tsoriokos. "Ah. Welcome aboard." She can't help but notice that instead of wearing green, he's wearing gold and black. Lots of it, giving it more the look of powered armor than normal Muton armor.

"It is a pleasure to be welcome," the giant purple alien says, "Permission to board?"

"Granted."

Tsoriokos nods, and walks aboard, ducking under the top of the airlock doors. Tapping her omnitool, she confirms that the supplies are fully loaded, and walks through the airlock, passing the three sectoids as they exit.

He's so polite, she muses with a small smile, hands folded behind her and a light skip in her step. But, she also muses, he's a Muton. Even calling upon the legacy of science that is her blood, there may be objections due to the fact that great-grandma dissected a few of his unfortunate comrades but yes, the crew is now assembled in the C&C.

The galaxy map looms over all, a raised dias with a holographic representation of the Milky Way. Assembled around the consoles, around the map, around the command center at the heart of the Normandy are the dozens of shipmates, crew, officers, and guests that are now under _her_ command.

So, Jane Shepard walks up to the map, stepping up onto the platform, and clears her throat.

"Okay," she says, "I'm not good at giving speeches. So, I'm going to say this.

"We've been given a mission. It's not every day that an Alliance ship has to hunt down a Spectre. It's not every day that humanity is given a chance to step up onto the galactic stage. There are rumors out there of the political ramifications of this. That maybe the Alliance will get a Council seat. That maybe we'll be seen as equals of the Hierarchy, of the Republics, of the Adventium, of the Union."

She grips the railings a bit tighter. Going better than she hoped, at least.

"Well, I say _fuck that._ Screw the politics. Our mission is to stop a madman who attacked Eden Prime. Who's allied with the first alien race to try to invade Earth. Saren Aterius has pissed off enough people that it's not _just_ the Alliance going after him, now. It's _us."_

She slaps her hand against the railing and stands up. She looks out at the crew- _her_ crew, and they stand ramrod straight. All eyes on her.

"So, we're not out for revenge. We're not out for payback. We're going out there because we're _not_ letting another Eden Prime happen!" Standing up straight, puffing out her chest, she ends her speech with a loud, clear, " _Are you ready?"_

A cheer from her crew. Her human crew, the alien crew, those who've served under her with Anderson, those new to the ship in the past few hours. Then, Kaidan Alenko cuts the mood along an artery with an almost reflexive,

" _Aye Aye Captain!"_

Silence blankets over the C&C. Next to Kaidan, Ash slowly turns to him and stares, lips pursed and giving him a verbose look which contains much inappropriate language. A look which snaps back to the map and the Captain when Jane responds with a,

" _I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"_

" _AYE AYE CAPTAIN!"_

Which is the moment that Ash pinches the bridge of her nose, and realizes that this is indeed _Hell_. She is on a _ship of nerds._

* * *

Great magnetic clamps flash, disengage, and lift from the swept back hull of the SSV Normandy. Prismatic engines glow, carrying the frigate forward- out of the docks and towards the ether and the mission at hand. Light plays over the hull- elerium technology giving it the hue of a diamond soaring through space, all at the deft controls of the most skilled pilots in the Alliance.

Standing at the galaxy map, Jane taps in the destination on the free-floating, orange keypad in front of her. "Okay, Joker. Take us out. We're heading to the-"

And then her omnitool beeps. She looks down at it. At the message displayed on it.

" _Fuck."_

A screen with Joker's face on it pops up on her right. " _Who'd we forget?"_

"We forgot Vasir," she says, and rubs the bridge of her nose, "Right, prep a shuttle."

Joker raises a finger. " _I got this."_

The Normandy comes to a swift, gentle stop.

"Backing it up?" she asks.

" _Backing it up."_

* * *

The prismatic glow of the engines fade, and the lights along the bow and neck of the frigate glow bright. The Normandy slides back, faint adjustments in angle, a complete reversal of its course with the soft touch no VI or AI can provide, until the Normandy reverses back into the docking berth it once occupied. On the platform, watching the frigate _back up_ into its previous position, the asari whistles.

As the clamps come back down onto the ship and the airlock extends, Tela Vasir picks up her duffle.

"Yeah, I am hiring him the _moment_ he's free," she says, and walks through.

* * *

The captain's quarters on the Normandy have no windows. A good thing, considering the normal hazards of space, where a loose piece of debris can lead to a sudden change in the chain of command. That being said, it is large, at least for quarters on a frigate, and provides the amenities she normally misses from her home on the Citadel- a computer terminal, a comfortable bed, and room for her pet chryssalid to run around in circles chasing a laser pointer so he doesn't roam around and stalk Tali.

Jane Shepard- still in her dress uniform, albeit with the jacket unbuttoned and sitting cross legged on the bed- is a realist when it comes to how well Chirples can be trained. Even with psychic powers.

"Okay, front and center."

She clicks off the laser pointer that has been entertaining him, and waits for him to skitter over. Four glowing puppy dog eyes focus on her, begging for leniency, food, and both.

"So, I don't know why you like to spend time with Miss Tali," she says, "But for some reason, she's scared of you. Maybe it's because you first met when you were on a sugar high? Dunno. But you need to cool it."

The chryssalid chirps. In the back of her mind, it translates to, " _Will I get food of I do?"_

She can say many things about Chirples, but at least he isn't complicated. "Yes."

A happy chirrup. There are many ways to discipline pets. For some animals, negative reinforcement works- they fear doing the thing which gets them in trouble, and therefor will not do it. With chryssalids, especially the reaver breeds, positive reinforcement is the most common and useful tool. Food=Good, and therefor Good=Food. Once Good has been defined via Food, training good behavior becomes simple. Simpler.

It does go a long way to explain how chryssalids can eat both dextro and levo based foods, as their sheer love of food bypasses anything so base as biochemical barriers. Indeed, love and appetite conquer all.

The door chimes, and Chirples hops up on the bed, finding a favorite pillow and sitting on it. Then finding another favorite pillow and curling up on that. By the time Jane has reached the door, Chirples is fast asleep.

The door opens, and Kaidan Alenko stands at attention. He is a full head taller than Jane, and so it is by sheer coincidence that her eyes are locked on his pecs when she sees him, before she clears her throat. "At ease, Alenko. What can I do for you?"

He relaxes. Not a lot, as he is still Kaidan Alenko, but he unlocks his hands from behind his back and stands a little bit at least. A little bit. "Captain, I wanted to volunteer to be your psionic mentor."

Jane cocks an eyebrow. Then both, lifting up her brow. Then remembers that, yes, she is officially a psionic and that no one knows about the Ethereal in her head.

 _He's cute,_ Asaru assures her, _I think he likes you, too._

 _Are you reading his mind?_ She thinks back.

 _No, that would be rude. I can just tell from the body language. You're not the first human I've met._

"Alright," she says, "So what would that entail? Would we have time for any lessons before we arrive at-"

Joker, ever the killer of moments, then pipes in over their omnitools. " _We're on approach to the Vahlen institute. Captain Shepard, Lieutenant Alenko, Director Sanders is specifically requesting your presence."_

Jane nods. Space is vast and huge, but then again there are the magical space guns which make travel kind of trivial. "Okay, so I _would_ like you to be my mentor," she says, "Meet you at the airlock."

He nods, backs out of the doorway, and closes the door as he leaves.

* * *

Against the backdrop of the gas giant it orbits, the flat, disc shape of the Vahlen Institute seems small. But as the Normandy docks, one appreciates that the disc dwarfs the frigate, allowing it to dock with one of the many, many arms that small enough to be invisible when one looks at the entire structure.

When the Institute was named and declared open, funded and built by X-COM in memory of one of their most distinguished scientists, it held the record for largest man-made structure built. Two dreadnoughts, bow to stern, could barely cross its diameter. The prismatic field keeping it in orbit rivals that of the Temple Ship.

All of this, on paper, is to safeguard the advances in psionics and Elerium technology sourced from the Institute.

On paper, at least.

Jane muses on this, and her relationship to the namesake, as she walks out of the airlock and finds a petite, blonde woman in a dark blue uniform waiting for her, with a distinctive X patch on her left sleeve. And purple eyes.

"Captain Shepard," she says with a smile, "Kahlee Saunders, director of the Vahlen institute." After a moment, she extends a hand, which Jane takes in an uneasy shake.

Inwardly, she wonders. She has encountered psionics before, but then she had not joined their august ranks. She wonders if there is some sort of secret handshake she should be using.

 _Not really,_ Saunders' voice says in the back of her head, _The purple eyes pretty much do it._

Jane ends the handshake, narrowing her eyes at the blonde. "Sorry about that," Sanders says with a small, not-at-all-sorry smile, "You were broadcasting."

"Pretty much," Kaidan agrees, stepping up behind him with Ash, and earning a stare from both women.

Saunders clears her throat. "Captain Shepard, come with me," she says, folding her hands behind her, "Commander Alenko, Chief Williams. The Ducks will escort you to the pickup."

On cue, the hallway behind Saunders slides open. But that was because the wall was actually the doors to a pneumatic transport, which opens up to reveal a two seat vehicle. Shrugging, Shepard walks into it, followed by Saunders. The doors close, and there is both a squeak and a _hiss_ of Shepard and the car, respectively taking off at high speeds.

"The...Ducks?" Ash asks.

The wall opens again, revealing a larger car. Inside of which are three sectoids, each in a different colored zipped up jumpsuit. The one in green walks over, saluting. "Welcome to the Vahlen institute," the sectoid says, only the faint motion of its chin any sign it talks, its lips still sealed, "We're the Ducks. This way, please."

The other two sectoids- in blue and red- walk up and salute. Walls to the right slide open to reveal another walkway leading into a large bay.

"Right," Kaidan says, following the Sectoids, "The Ducks. Makes sense."

Ash rolls her eyes, walking behind Alenko.

* * *

The car itself is comfortable, if traveling at surprising speed. At the same time, Jane realizes that while she came to the Vahlen institute to pick up some sort of package-

"Why am I coming with you, and not with my crew?" she asks, folding her arms and leaning back in the padded seat, "We're not going to the pickup, are we?"

"Nope." Saunders smiles, "It's XCOM protocol."

"I'm an XCOM dropout." Jane purses her lips and slumps her shoulders. "Why are we following XCOM protocol?"

Saunders cocks an eyebrow, narrowing purple eyes. "Huh. Way David spoke of you..." She trails off, and clears her throat. "Be that as it may, your psionics activated under odd circumstances, and you displayed abilities- healing- that are highly uncommon among psionics. Whenever that happens, XCOM protocol is that if we can, we have you try to interface with the Device."

The Device. Jane briefly muses on that. Then, focuses on the important matter, as the tube car passes through the tunnels and into a transparent tubeway overlooking a massive garden which neither pay attention to.

"David? You mean Anderson?"

"We're acquainted," Saunders says with a smirk, "He spoke highly of you, Captain. I'm just surprised that someone he pretty much trusted with his life could have been dropped from XCOM training."

She taps a button on her armrest, and with a hiss of cold air two bottles pop out from the compartment to her side. She takes one bottled water and tosses it to Shepard, taking another for herself. "I admit, it's a puzzle. I like puzzles. Anything in your history that might make XCOM drop you?"

She sips her water, and Shepard folds her arms, pressing the cool bottle against her forehead. "Well, might be family reasons? Moira Vahlen was my great-grandmother."

Which prompts Saunders to start choking.

* * *

The Ducks, the three color coded Sectoids, walked silently through the catwalks and enclosed pathways leading to the large vehicle hangar. The only signs they communicated at all were the sparks of vermillion along the barely visible circuit between them. Ash and Kaidan walk behind them, Ash breaking up the monotony every couple of minutes by tapping up her omnitool and seeing how long they've been walking.

"So what're we here for?" she asks.

"The Normandy's ground transport," Kaidan responds, off-handedly checking his omnitool, bringing up reports, charts, notes. While not technically the new XO, he did volunteer for a...large...share of the work of keeping the Normandy running, simply because Shepard's sudden promotion caught several people off guard. And her actual XO had a far away look in his eyes when he realized what he'd gotten into, as if he needed to quickly acquire a drinking problem.

"Which is what? A Mako?" She shrugs, walking up next to him as the walkway widens. "Does XCOM even use Makos? I thought they had, you know, robot tanks. Or cyborg tanks. Or artificially intelligent robot tanks which are powered by alien brains."

Which is when Kaidan winces. But not at the exaggerations Ash is prone to, but from the sudden headache that comes over him. "That's weird." He touches his nose, and finds the small splotch of blood. "Hey, Ducks? What _are_ we picking up?"

The three sectoids had already assembled on a larger platform ahead of them, and figuring the answer was going to be more visual than aural, he walks over to join them. All three, all linked, guide down the drones holding up the floating platform upon which the package is. Which is when they get a good look at the package.

Hovering over the hexagon of the platform, its back half glows like a captured rainbow. Its front, on the other hand, resembles a fighter. But, sleeker. Smoother. More work of art than weapon of war, its smooth shape and flowing lines understate the size of it- as big as any of the APCs they could have picket up.

"Niiiiiice," Ash says with a shit eating grin, "We're getting a Firestorm?" She whaps Kaidan on the arm. "We're getting a Firestorm!"

"The Firestorm," the red Duck says.

Both turn to the sectoid.

"The?" Kaidan asks.

"High Command wanted it brought out of mothballs and tuned up," the green Duck says, "Compact gravity drive freed up enough room for passengers, although it's still wonky as balls."

"You're gonna want a psionic flying it," the blue Duck finishes, "But yeah, it's the original. Something about this mission being 'historic', but this is past our pay grade so try not to wreck it."

The two humans stare at the Sectoids, and then stare at the ship. The ship. The Prototype Ship, the singular turning point of the First Alien War. Both think the same thing, but it is Ash who voices it.

"So hey, now we have a way to get Joker out of the cockpit. 'Cause he is gonna _stab_ someone if he doesn't get to fly that."

* * *

From what she can tell, this room sits at the heart of the Vahlen Institute. Therefor, it must be really, _really_ important. Other signs of its importance include the foreboding black walls surrounding them, the iridescent piping running along the walls, the steady hum of what she presumes to be a plethora of equipment keeping everything stable and oh yes.

The dais at the center of the room, upon which hovers a vermilion sphere. Which glows, despite the lack of any obvious power source connected to it, which gives her the rather stark impression that it _is_ the power source. A step behind her, Saunders taps her omnitool, and nods.

"It was white, earlier. But it changes colors every now and then." She shrugs. "But then again, we have no idea what it _is."_

Shepard nods. Tilting her head, she stares at the orb. Sphere? Orb. "So...we have no idea what that thing is? After how long?"

"We've had it since the Temple Ship invasion," Saunders responds, gesturing to the chamber around them, "This is called the Gollop Chamber." She purses her lips, turning around. A full circle. "Well, _a_ Gollop Chamber. It's a recreation of the one at XCOM's old HQ on Earth, and made to house the Device."

She walks over to the device. The orb. The mysterious alien device hovering. "It was originally called the Ethereal Device," Saunders continues, "But Doctor Vahlen figured out that it was actually older than the Ethereals. And the lack of other Devices on any other ship than the Temple Ship and the Overseer point to it being more important than originally believed." A pause. Maybe to breathe? "The first psionic to successfully interface with the device became the Volunteer. No one else has successfully interfaced with it since, but everytime someone awakens as a Psionic under nonstandard circumstances-"

Words words words. More words. Lots of words. Shepard sighs. She doesn't want to be disrespectful, but she has a mission to do. And besides which, the sooner this gets done, the sooner she can get back to her ship and the sooner she can make sure Chirples hasn't spooked Tali more. So, midway through the extended history of the device, she walks over and places her hands on either side of the device.

"So," she says, "We're done?"

But wait, the universe says, There's _more._

The device flashes, spikes of energy extending out to touch her palms. In the back of her mind, she wonders if she packed her duffle, because that's when the _ride begins._

* * *

She sees.

She sees the polished floor and the Device. But not the Device she touched, but its twin. Surrounding it, lining the balconies and platforms around her, filling up every available inch of space in the domed, cathedral-like structure around her...

Are Ethereals.

More Ethereals than anyone has ever seen in Citadel space. Hundreds, if not thousands of the robed aliens, and they all watch, four arms outstretched towards the Device and the dais upon which it floats.

There are no Mutons. No Thin Men or Vipers or Sectoids accompanying them. Just the Ethereals, alone in the cathedral. But then she sees the crystals- odd, symmetrical orange crystals floating above and around the room, and she realizes she's never seen them before. Not accompanying Ethereals, not with any Adventium race.

Two flank the Ethereal standing at the dais. His headpiece is larger, silver and flared with metal fins like wings. The crystals flash and become long limbed humanoids. They reach out, and touch the ethereal just as his hand touches the orb, and the vision ends with a horn of bass and **metal black** -

And then she is there again. But the pillars are in ruins, the platforms littered with dead mutons and dead eidoleons. Plasma fire passes through her like she wasn't there- from behind her, and she hears people- humans- shouting to take up flanking positions, cut off when the Ethereal-

The same Ethereal, the winged helmet and power radiating off of him-

Fills the room with a storm of vermilion light, making everyone scream and even in the vision Jane feels it- the weight and the power and the **metal black**.

Inch by inch, the Ethereal pours its power, its madness, into the storm. Inch by inch, cerulean light forces it back. Jane looks to her side and she sees a sole human, a young woman with cold eyes, the same she saw when the Beacon and Saren nearly killed her. She forces herself forward, radiating power, radiating anger, radiating light.

"This is over!" The psi amp lies forgotten by her side. She no longer needs such machinery. "Die, you _bastard!_ No one else _dies today,_ except _you!"_

" _You will all die."_ The light washes over the storm and banishes it. The Ethereal, the Prime Ethereal, floats above them. His hands surround the Device, the orb. " _I know this. We will all die. They come, and we will all die."_

"Then we'll kill them, too," Annette says with a cold whisper.

The Ethereal hangs in the air. Behind him, Jane can see the ocean through the window.

" _We believed so too,_ " the Ethereal moans, " _We believed we could fight them. We believed this would be our salvation. But we dug too deep, breached the darkness. And we learned the truth."_

The Ethereal raises the orb. " _There is a God, and he hates you all."_

The last vestiges of the storm rage around him. Tearing at robe, at metal mask. " _He sleeps, dreaming, in the gulf between galaxies. Striding from darkness to feed upon all light."_

It raises the orb. Beneath the cracks of the helm, the eyes glow gold. " _His name is_ _ **Harbinger.**_ _"_ And the eyes flash, becoming a deep, cerulean blue glow beneath the mask. " _And all shall kneel before him and die."_

The Ethereal releases the orb, and drops to the floor. The vision goes black once more. And silent. And...

Warm? She didn't expect it to feel warm. She certainly didn't expect warmth, and definitely didn't expect music. Not in pitch darkness and upon witnessing two apocalypses.

 _Why would we not sing?_

In the darkness, despite it having no effect, Jane blinks. "Who said that?"

Her answer comes in a prismatic glow.

She turns, finds Asaru floating with her, and shoots him a look before turning back to the rainbow that somehow talks. A rainbow, a prism that takes up the world. Its voice is song, and the light is both ways- flowing into it as light, flowing out as music.

" _Beautiful,"_ Asaru whispers.

"So you know what it is?"

" _Not a damned clue."_

Jane sighs, as is her lot in life, and turns back to the glowing thing. It is the most scientific term she can think of for it, as it is a thing and it is glowing, and that is all there is to it. With an engineer's eye, she examines the light, which radiates out from the object. A sphere, but not a sphere. More soft, foamy in its texture, appearance, than the Device.

"Who are you?" she asks.

 _We sing. You give us music and we sing and we love you for it._

Well that wasn't an answer. Her shoulders slump and she shrugs. "And what does that mean?"

Her answer comes in the form of a sharp slap to the face, and the sphere becomes the face of Kahlee Saunders kneeling over her. Jane blinks, furrowing her brow, and groans. "What happened?"

"The Device reacted to you," Saunders explains, "And then it did this."

She gestures to the walls and ceilings of the Gollop Chamber, and Jane follows her hand. She confirms that, yes, the walls are now covered in bright pink, faintly prismatic crystalline growths covering every inch of the once black walls.

"So why's the room now covered in Elerium?"

Saunders thinks for a moment, helps Jane up, and gives her the answer she was expecting.

"Hell if I know."

* * *

 **Codex Entry: Elerium**

 _Often called E-115 or Elerium-115, Elerium is not the 115th element on the periodic table (see: Ununpentium), but is referred to as such due to mid 20th century science fiction and UFO conspiracy theories. Elerium is a crystalline material which, when activated by electric current, capable of producing enormous amounts of energy. Elerium's similarities to Element Zero (see: Eezo) serve as a topic of debate regarding the origins of both elements. However, while both can be used to make interstellar travel convenient, Elerium possesses both advantages and disadvantages when compared to its counterpart. Elerium cannot be mined, and there are no known natural sources of Elerium that are easily accessible. Instead, Elerium is created by human psionics of a class 8 rating or above. So far, it is unknown why non-human psionics cannot create Elerium, even when imitating the exact technique. While it is also not fully understood how Elerium creates the energy that it does, it cannot be argued that it works. In the words of post-Temple Ship XCOM engineer Lily Shen, "If it's bullshit, but it's repeatable, it's not bullshit."_

* * *

Further touching of the ball of light did nothing. She touched it, grabbed it, even rubbed it like it was a magic lamp- which is not an incorrect analogy- but nothing happened. So, Saunders let her go so she could get back to her actual job, which was captaining a ship. In particular, inspecting the beautiful bit of cargo that they have taken aboard. Standing in the cargo bay on the bottom half of her ship, Jane Shepard props her hands on her hips and whistles.

Clamps hold the fighter in place, the radiant aft keeping it off the floor. Its hardpoints- each of which contain a plasma cannon- are closed, the obvious plating the only blemishes on the otherwise smooth and streamlined nose. Standing in front of it, she can appreciate the size. She's seen the _pictures,_ but never seen it up close.

Walking over to the Firestorm- _The_ Firestorm- she presses her hand against the side. The metal feels warm to the touch, a side effect of the Elerium generator and gravity wave engine. Miraculous engineering which her great grandmother had some hand in, and a turning point in the war against the Temple Ship.

Then she hears the staccato _squeakthump_ of a pair of crutches moving as fast as the arms can carry while dragging feet on the floor, and she turns to the elevator to catch Joker gimping his way over to The Firstorm as fast as his arms can carry.

While repeating " _Omigod_ "every step of the way.

"Joker? Are you drooling?" she asks.

He doesn't answer, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, carrying himself up next to her and propping himself up on one of his crutches to touch it- caress it, maybe. The purple of his eyes shines brighter, and he has on his face a smile that can redeem souls.

"Can I call dibs? Because I call dibs."

" _As long as he promises not to drool on me."_

Both captain and over eager pilot take a step back from the Firestorm. Which, for some reason, now talks.

"Hello," Jane says, "Who am I talking to?"

" _I figure no one told you about me,"_ the voice says with a sigh, " _Right. Facial recognition...ah. Captain Shepard. Flight Lieutenant Moreau. I am the flight computer of the Firestorm, which was installed to ensure that you do not crash it, destroy it, or otherwise embed it into the nearest mountain or other such structure while borrowing it."_

Joker, for his part, looks offended. Then aghast. "Aw man, did they really install an _AI_ on the Firestorm?"

The Firestorm coughs. Well, the AI on the Firestorm coughs. " _I wasn't installed, I was purpose built by Raymond Shen for these tasks. And I have a name."_

Jane makes a rolling motion with her hand, the universal hand gesture for, ' _Which is...?'_

"Which is?" she asks, unsure whether the AI has camera control.

" _You may call me Julian."_

* * *

There is a part of him, deep down, which wonders if the lighting has a setting other than _ominous._ Not to mention that the chair, the chair he controls the ship from, was designed for someone much _bigger_ than him. If he tries to sit back, he has to shift back to his legs are hanging over the side and his feet kicking in the air like he was at the children's table. Of course, knowing what he does, that could be deliberate.

Leaning forward on the too-big command seat, hands folded in his lap, Saren listens to the Zudjari. Listens. Analyzes. Understands.

Judges.

"So." His mandibles twitch, and the Zudjari goes silent. Its vertical mouth closes and it stands at attention. "Let me see if I understand. Shepard and Vasir are _both_ alive. The Council has stripped me of my Spectre status." He raises a finger, holding up a hand at the Zudjari to keep it from interrupting. Which it won't, as that would require initiative. "And, the artifact the humans have reacted to Shepard, which means she _may_ be a psionic on the level of the human who destroyed the temple ship?"

The Zudjari nods.

"You must do whatever I tell you to, that is correct?" Saren asks.

"We are bound to obey," the alien warbles.

Saren nods, and delivers his command. "Hit yourself in the genitals."

The Zudjari punches itself in the mouth, groans, and collapses. "Well that answers that question," Saren mutters.

He can hear the sashay before he sees her. The creeking of the dress is rather specific. Clad in black, cleavage on full display, and older than the colony he was born in, Saren watches the asari matriarch enter the dimly lit chambers. "You are upset," Benezia observes.

"Shepard is alive and will be a larger problem than expected," Saren growls, sliding out of the chair and folding his hands behind his back, pacing around the dropped Zudjari, "We need to find the Conduit before they do. Where did you say your daughter was?"

"Therum," Benezia says, with a bare moment's hesitation.

Saren nods. "Send the specialists."

Benezia cocks an eyebrow, barely seen under the black headpiece which fulfills someone's fetish. "We are not going there ourselves?"

"No," he says, "We're going to the Perseus Veil. We need to _negotiate."_

* * *

Leaning on the galaxy map console and pursing her lips, Jane takes a moment to phrase the question in her head before speaking it aloud. "Why are we going to _Therum?_ "

Several people stand around the map. Ash is leaning on one hand, other hand on her hip, as if purposefully contrasting Kaidan's ramrod posture. Tsoriokos is quietly examining the CiC, as if trying to figure out defensive positions. Pressley, the bald man in blue, simply taps at the keyboard in front of him, ignoring the Muton next to him and at least visibly not paying attention to the conversation.

Tela, arms folded and staring at her, answers with a tone that Jane's mother would use when she would ask for second helpings of desert.

"Liara T'Soni is on Therum," she answers, "She's one of the two leading experts on the Prothean extinction theory."

Jane nods, her expression desperately seeking more information.

"Saren mentioned in that audio log that our Quarian VIP found something called the Conduit," Tela continues, "I've poked my sources and they've never heard of it, but T'Soni's always been on the fringe of academia." She raises a finger, pointedly stopping the protest about 'fringe' and 'whackos'. "At least, until the other expert published papers corroborating her theories regarding the extinction of the Protheans."

Jane snaps her fingers, straightening up. At her feet, Chirples raises his head, confused by the sudden cessation of scratchings.

"I remember that! That was the paper that proved Athame was a Prothean!"

"And postulated that there was a Prothean Beacon on Thessia, causing the matriarchs to all start squealing like schoolgirls," Tela says with a sigh and a shrug, "At least no one's been stupid enough to try to assault Thessia."

"The Krogans are stupid enough," Tsoriokos intones.

"The Krogans don't have a standing fleet," Tela says, not even turning to the Muton.

"Yet," the Muton states.

"Be that as it may," Jane chimes in, raising a hand, and turning to find Chirples standing on the railing, nudging her other hand. Which proceeds to resume the scratchings. "Be that as it may, why are we going after T'Soni, who is on a _volcano planet?"_

Tela stares at her. Then rubs the back of her neck. Then, snaps her fingers. "Right! The second voice on the recording was Matriarch Benezia T'Soni. Liara's her daughter, and Saren, being a right bastard, is just the type of person to go after her to keep Benezia in line."

"Hero of the galaxy," Ash mutters.

"Also," Tela adds, "Our other expert lives on a planet that's in currently contested space between the Systems Alliance and the Batarian Hegemony. So, we can't _go_ there without starting a war."

Idly, Jane enters in the system on the keyboard in front of her. The galaxy view zooms in, and Jane sucks her teeth. "Yeah, that's a jump away from their homeworld," she says, and sighs, "Alright. But, I want to keep tabs on him and pick him up if he ever leaves."

Tela nods. "I'll have my sources notify us if Professor Nazara ever goes on the move."

Jane nods. "Joker?"

" _Course plotted in for Therum, Captain,"_ the pilot's voice announces over the speakers.

Smiling, Jane reaches up with her non-scratching hand, and points forward.

"Engage."

Kaidan chuckles.

Ash rolls her eyes.

Tela blinks, and cocks her head.

"I don't get that reference."

* * *

 **End Chapter 3**


	4. Operation Blue Waffle

**Codex Entry: Firestorm Assault Fighter**

 _Even though the Temple Ship invasion occurred more than one hundred and sixty years ago, very little about X-COM's standard assault fighter has changed. At least, in its appearance. The Firestorm, considered bleeding edge when first introduced in the late 2010s, is now a standard that other Elerium-based small combat craft are held to. Based on the designs of the assault ships used by the Temple Ship, the Firestorm has a nose similar to the contemporary fighter craft of the Temple Ship invasion, but its aft half is inspired by alien design. Instead of thrust, it uses a gravity wave engine to hurl itself through the air, in a manner not unlike the mechanisms used in current mass effect based guns. This manner of propulsion is considered inefficient for capital class ships, which use standard mass effect cores to lower their effective mass for means of efficient propulsion. The exception to this among Systems Alliance ships is the Normandy-class frigate, which uses an Elerium drive core to simulate the Firestorm's rapid acceleration, although the trade off does require skilled pilots._

* * *

Hands caress the controls, and he _moans._ Licking his lips, the pilot runs his hands over the haptic interfaces and slowly, thoroughly strokes the control stick to his right, and wraps his hand around the throttle to his left.

A screen opens up, featuring what looks like an angry single player game of Pong.

" _I think I need an adult,"_ Julian says.

Joker narrows his eyes and stares at the VI. "I _am_ an adult."

There is a cough. Joker turns around and sees Shepard, Ash, and Tali sitting in the passenger compartment, the two couches facing each other and with room for one more.

"No," Ash says, "No you're not."

* * *

 **Chapter 4:**

 **Operation Blue Waffle**

* * *

Kaidan Alenko leans back in the seat. For the duration of the mission, it is not the seat. It is _his_ seat. Feeling the leather creaking against his back, he rests his hands on the haptic interface and watches the small dot that is the Firestorm accelerating away from the Normandy. As long as Joker is flying that, he's flying the Normandy.

Feels good.

" _Alenko."_ Kaidan looks up, and sees the small still image of Joker hovering over the control panel. " _Remember to wipe it down when I get back!"_

And the image disappears. "Please," Kaidan says to himself, "I'm not you."

"Commander."

At the sound of the syllabic voice, the chair turns. He's never had a chair which rotates like this before, so he might as well live it up. He turns the chair, leaning back in it and finding it remarkably easy to imitate Joker's general laziness, and looks up so he can avoid staring at Doctor Chakwas' bust.

He taps the armrest, and finds there was a button there. And a massage feature.

"Doctor," he says, "What can I do for you?"

"I've been going over the Commander Shepard's psionic evaluations," the snake doctor says, tapping the PDA and a screen appearing over Kaidan's omnitool, "At present, she is considered a Class 5 psionic."

Kaidan cocks an eyebrow. He looks over the screen, nodding. Recognizes the signs, terms, and elerium traces that have come up. "But she interfaced with the Device," he says, scratching the back of his head, "The last person to do that was the Volunteer and they were...well."

He shrugs. "They were the Volunteer."

"We can safely say that Shepard's not the next Volunteer." She works her jaw, cocking a hairless brow and folding her arms. "Though, this is less about power and more about versatility. Psionic healing is rare, at best."

Kaidan nods, hands tented. His face contemplative, and his eyes narrowed. "Very rare," he says, "And did show any psionic potential before? She _was_ in XCOM training, right?"

Chakwas nods, tapping her omnitool again. Another screen appears on Kaidan's own. "Before she was rejected, yes. And yes, she showed no psionic potential, but did go through most of the combat engineer training." She tilts her head, working her jaw back and forth and goes silent for a long moment. "Now, what strikes me as odd is the reason for her discharge. What is a '149'?"

Kaidan goes silent. He taps his omnitool, and brings up a ever-scrolling screen of regulations, lists, and reasons. "One Four Nine," he says with a mutter, "Let's see..."

The screen stops scrolling. "One Four Nine. Diplomatic Backdraft Safeguard. Classified." He rubs the back of his neck. "The hell does that mean?"

* * *

Sleek and smooth, the Firestorm cuts through the sky. Inside the passenger compartment, Ash grabs the handle above her seat, aptly nicknamed the Jesus Handle when the ship jolts. Next to her, Tali continues playing a computer game.

"Are we hitting turbulence?" Arms crossed, Jane turns to the cockpit, and hears the acknowledging grunt from Joker.

"Therum's got an atmosphere," he calls back, hands on the controls, Julian's single eye staring at him wth great judgment, "We can't use the FTL in an atmosphere."

"Why would we use _faster than light_ this close to a _planet?"_ There is noted urgency in Ash's voice. Tali glances at her. Jane clears her throat and taps her omnitool, screens popping up with complex physics equations simplified into cartoons of a firestorm.

"Elerium FTL drives work by shortening the distance between two objects instead of reducing mass," Jane explains, highlighting a screen showing a ship pulling two points closer together, "Although Elerium FTL drives actually keep their top speed to a fraction of the speed of light instead of-"

"FTL's a kind of drive," Tali interjects, switching off her omnitool and folding her arms, "Kind of like the difference between atmospheric and sublight engines?"

Jane nods with a smile. Ash grips the handle tighter.

"Hey, Captain?" Joker looks over his shoulder, the turbulence steadying out as the ship dips into the atmosphere. Jane takes the opportunity to climb out of her seat, over to the cockpit. "There's a shuttle landed by the prothean ruin site. Before you ask, not Asari."

Jane nods. He taps a screen, and a silhouette comes up. Flat, blocky. Aesthetically a flying brick, and completely bereft of any of the signature designs associated with the known galactic powers. "I don't recognize that design at all."

"Search's coming up a blank, too," Joker responds with a shrug, "Scanned the ID for later, but that means you _probably_ got company down there."

Jane nods. "Set us down at the ruins, Joker." She turns back to the passenger compartment, walking with the help of the overhead handrails. "Final check for shields and weapons. We're going in."

* * *

"I spy, with my little eye, something that is white. Which is the wall."

Eyes close and she sighs, idly twitching her fingers. Then her toes. Which, really, are the only parts of her that aren't immobilized. Exhaling, she turns back to the cavern that makes up most of this facility, as the Prothean ruin is only a small part. A part she has gotten trapped in, albeit it was more an act of desperation than anything, due to a stray shot hitting the control console nearest to her when she activated this field.

"I spy, with my little eye, something that is brown. Rocks."

She is thirsty, hungry, and suspended spread eagle in a prothean safety field, which is all too similar to those specialized barriers she's seen parents put their children into when they try to pet the varren or wild chryssalid and now she's reminiscing.

Of life choices, of immediate choices, of whether or not she should have come here, of whether or not she should have majored in archeology and whether or not that was a shotgun she just heard.

Her thoughts are, tellingly, interrupted by the sound of a shotgun going off, the field disappearing, and her falling onto her ass on cold, metal, prothean floors.

"Eh, couldn't figure out the controls, used a shortcut. Don't gimme that, you know what you're paying for." Heavy footsteps. She turns and scrambles to her feet, and stares at the red shelled, red eyed krogan walking towards her. "Liara T'Soni?"

Liara nods. She glances at the shotgun, and with a grunt he folds it and slings it on his back.

"You're the expert on Protheans, right?" he asks, "Need you to help me find something. Then we're even."

"Okay," she says, and tilts her head, "What about the aliens?"

The krogan blinks. Sensing the field had fallen, there is the high pitched screech of wings unfurling, and black, gold accented bug people rising from their nooks and resting places to paint them with laser sights.

"Oh fuck me," the krogan grunts, grabs Liara, and dives behind a convenient waist high wall. Hypersonic pellets turn where they were standing into a hole, and he unholsters his shotgun. She reaches into the holster on her armor and pulls out an oversized pistol.

"Okay, this is gonna be easier," he says, "Urdnot Wrex."

"Good, we're introduced." Liara peaks over the side, aims, and shoots one of the four-eyed aliens between its eyes. It drops without a sound. Weird. "So, why are you here?"

"Contract. Odd question, who's your mother?"

Liara blinks. "That is odd. Why?"

"I swore off Asari a while back but I just want to make sure you're not one of mine."

"Matriarch Benezia."

Wrex lets out a relieved breath. "Great. Still, good shooting."

* * *

The elevator doors grind open, the lift coming to an abrupt halt, and the first things out are a gremlin drone and a crackling orange sphere. Followed by Ash, her rifle up and barrel in the lead, muttering to herself about bullshit tech.

Jane follows, pistol in her right hand and her omnitool surrounding her left arm. "Gremlin and Chittika are taking point," she whispers, "I'm streaming video to our omnitools. Ash, are you receiving?"

Ash grunts a reply, back against a smoothed out rock wall and a transparent screen hovering over her eye. "Yeah. I'm hearing gunfire."

Tali takes up the rear behind Jane, shotgun in hand. "Oh, good," she mutters, mouthpiece glowing, "Here I was wondering if this was going to be too boring."

Ash rolls her eyes. She taps her index against her palm, and her armor responds. Plates fold out of her neck and form into a helmet, the front of it opaque and glossy black. "I don't recognize the aliens. Anyone?"

"Nope," Tali responds.

Jane cocks an eyebrow, and then taps the command for her own helmet. "I do. Mom talked about them- they're these boogeymen in the Terminus system. They're called the Collectors."

"Cool, never shot one of those before." Ash taps the side of her grip with her free hand, the barrel glowing green. "Okay, I see an Asari and a Krogan. They're pinned down at the central chamber. Counting at least a dozen Collectors, but we've got surprise on our side. Skipper?"

Jane nods. "Anything we can use in the cavern?"

"Yes." That doesn't come from Ash. Rather, it comes from Tali. The two turn to the quarian, and they can see beneath the haze of her mask the edges of her smile. "I need you to buy me time. Because I just saw something."

Ash rolls her hand. "Don't keep us in suspense."

Tali grins wider. "A powered down Sectopod."

* * *

Holding up his omnitool, Wrex listens for the _beep_ of the camera program and pulls his hand down, the fresh crackle of his tested kinetic barriers telling him that yes, they did shoot at everything that moves. Tapping his contacts, he sends the picture, along with a simple question:

 _Well?_

The answer comes back within seconds.

 _Kill them all._

Wrex grunts and types a response.

 _Added cost for killing ghost stories._

Another _ping_ and he checks his bank account. Lips pull back in a grin. "Best boss."

He taps the barrel of his shotgun. Latches around the barrel open up, and he pulls a blocky piece of hardware from his belt, attaching it. It hums, purring like a content silicoid, and he turns to Liara.

"Question. You into Krogans?"

Liara blinks. "...no?"

"Lemme fix that." And with that, Wrex stands up, bringing up his shotgun and firing. The attachment, highly illegal, adds a further level of acceleration to the pellets. The first sign of its use is a blue flash when the pellets leave the barrel, accelerated to several times their normal speed.

The second sign is when the blast removes the torso of a Collector, and the three Collectors behind it.

Mindless, fearless, the Collectors nonetheless momentarily pause their barrage and stare at the Krogan.

"Hello boys," he shouts, "My name is Urdnot Wrex. _And this is my boomstick!"_

* * *

In the absence of Captain Shepard, normally command of the Normandy would go to Lieutenant Charles Pressly, the current XO. This would be a case of 'rules as written.' The balding, mustachio'ed officer has always found the navigation console more comfortable than the console overlooking the command center's oversized display, and did not protest. In fact, he appreciates the view.

In the absence of Captain Shepard, Council Spectre, command of the mission has gone to her mentor and fellow Spectre. Tela Vasir leans, hands on the rails overlooking either side of the holographic display of the planet, her eyes narrowed. Looking for something. Something familiar.

Looking up, she meets Pressly's gaze. Rather than call attention to the fact that he was staring, she says, in completely level and calm voice,

"Engage the stealth systems. We have company."

The overhead lights dim red. Soft, droning alarms sound. "Stealth systems engaged," Pressly responds, hands dancing across the controls, "Alenko, you heard her!"

In the display, the Normandy banks and weaves into a new orbit. Nothing inside moves, and Vasir sips her coffee. Doors to the side of the command center open, and Garrus walks on, followed by the skittering of the chryssalid on his heels. "Heard the alarms," the turian states, standing opposite Pressly, "The Zudjari?"

"Worse," Vasir says, placing down her coffee and tapping her console. The planet view zooms out, into an orbital view and zooming in on what appears to be an asteroid with engines. "The Collectors."

Garrus's mandibles twitch. Both he, and the chryssalid standing on the console next to him, give Vasir a questioning look. "The Collectors?"

"I thought they were a myth," Pressly adds.

Tela shakes her head. "Not in the Terminus systems. They're pretty real there." She quirks her lips, narrowing her eyes. "Never seen them this close, though. Closest I've ever gotten to seeing them was that case with Okeer trading Krogan eggs to them."

Garrus coughs. "I'm sorry, I know this is serious, but..." His mandibles twitch again. "Eggs?"

Tela shrugs. "Krogans lay eggs. It's why a group of Krogan babies are called a clutch." Then she sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Right, Krogans are pretty paranoid about outsiders knowing too much in the way of medical details, so don't tell anyone I told you."

Garrus nods. He then looks to Chirples, and points to the floor. With an affirmative chirrup, the chryssalid climbs off the console. "So, what's the plan?"

* * *

Ash whistles, watching the Collector's torso go flying from the shotgun blast, and the in her opinion _damn sexy_ Krogan making a scene. "Hey, there's a distraction," she says with a grin, "Tali, guessing you're going to hack the Sectopod?"

Tali nods, watching the carnage with a raised eyebrow.

"Good." Ash nods. "Do it."

Ash can't help but notice the lack of rampaging Sectopod. Instead, off to the corner- on the other side of the cavern from them and with many Collectors between them- the bipedal war machine remains unmoved.

"Tali?"

"It's old," Tali responds, "Operating system's different from mine and language isn't anything on my omnitool."

"You need hardline access?" Shepard asks.

Tali _mmhms_ an affirmative, and adds, "So I can overwrite the OS and load in Chittika."

Ash wonders if there was a glitch in her omnitool's universal translator, because she didn't understand a _single fucking word._

"You-" She turns to Tali, and beneath her helmet she glares. Either the helm is opaque or the quarian girl don't care. "You can't just _hack_ it?"

"It's an omnitool, Ash," Shepard deadpans, "Not a magic wand." She turns from the soldier to the quarian. "Tali, do you have sectopod schematics?"

"Was going to wing it. You do?"

Both their omnitools glow, and the exchange of data takes the form of a glowing orange fist bump. "Thank you. Cover me."

Head low, ducking, Tali runs out. Ash mutters a swear and begins firing, dividing the attention between the Krogan and them. "Skipper, any psionic tricks you can use?"

"Nope! No training!"

"Oh for fucks sake."

* * *

Ash fires, one round through the head of one of the Collectors, another round through a shoulder of another. Tali runs, ducking low, focused on the powered down war machine and the carnage that it shall reap in her name.

Thankfully, she has a shotgun.

The first Collector to get a bead on her gets a burst of hypervelocity shards to the head. The second gets shocked by her probe, and then gets a shotgun to the face. All in all, good shooting for someone running as fast as they can.

Another lands in front of her, retracting insectoid wings and bringing up a rifle that looks like it's made out of rock and meat. She pulls out her shotgun, but a free-flying torso of a Collector slams into it and sends it sprawling.

She turns, staring at the cavity taking up much of the far wall, and idly makes it a point to find out what sort of modifications the Krogan has. Because _dibs._

Still, it clears her a path to the Sectopod. Running over to it, she climbs onto its back and opens up the blueprints.

"Okay then, let's get you working."

The Gremlin darts between Collectors, shocking one after another, distracting them long enough for Ash- or Wrex- to finish them off. All in all, not the worst firefight Ash Williams has been in. In fact, she thinks this is going to be pretty easy.

That's when the giant eye burrows in from the ceiling and starts shooting death lasers.

"Well," she says.

"Shit," Shepard finishes.

* * *

 _"_ So what's your deal?"

The silence on the other end, as Joker idly moves the control stick of the Firestorm to navigate it, is telling. The ship slips between two pieces of debris- most of it metallic. The 'Collectors' or whatever they were called probably did that. He just knows he got orders from the Normandy as part of Vasir's plan.

" _I could ask the same thing, Mister Joker. At what point did your nickname stop being ironic, I wonder?"_

 _"_ About when I got top of my class and was the only one smiling."

More silence.

"You know, if you're trying to psychoanalyze me, you kind of suck at it."

A harrumph from the ship. " _I am only out of practice, that is all."_

"Yeah, yeah. So were you designed as part of the ship?"

There is a murmur from the speakers. " _No. Originally, Father made me from the limited AI of the base itself. The war was over before I was completed."_

"And then it was kind of redundant, yeah."

Did the AI on the fighter just sigh? Yeah, it did.

" _Yes. Yes it was. Really, I just don't know why they never fulfilled my request."_

Joker cocks an eyebrow. He deftly weaves the Firestorm through another wreck, and the silhouette of the Collector vessel appears on the screen to his left. "Yeah? What request?"

" _A simple, mobile, robot body."_

Joker shrugs. Seems harmless enough, he thinks. They probably have some mechs on the Normandy.

* * *

"Okay! Let's see, this is a...old one, so hm." She scans over the side of it with her omnitool. The side, as she is currently ducking behind it to be safe from the firefight. "Mm mm. Okay, that's the model. Hard point hard point..."

She reaches up and onto the back- thanking her ancestors the thing is in standard shutdown and not on its back or on its side, and taps a panel. Old, well preserved pressure sensitive locks release and a port slowly rises up. Her omnitool glows and takes a picture.

Back against the metal, she goes over the picture with a technician's eye. "Don't have one of those connectors." Her omnitool beeps. "And fabricated. Chatika!"

The sphere appears, floating in front of her. She pulls out the newly fabricated cord and shoves it into the drone. Wordlessly, the drone rises, floating over to the top of the sectopod and sliding the connector in.

"Mm. Hard line." She giggles, tapping her omnitool. "And formatted." Beneath her helm, the edges of her smile can be seen rising above her mouthpiece. "And installed. Let's see what weapons you have- Oh ho ho!"

* * *

The giant floating eye drone pauses in its dispensing of death beams, its single eye turning from its targets to the sound of a high pitched whine. Right in time for the immense plasma beam to strike it in what would normally be the iris, blowing out the back and dropping it to the cavern floor.

Fearless, mindless, the Collectors nonetheless pause. They stare, at one, at the now mobile sectopod, and open fire.

Hypervelocity bullets bounce off of the reinforced armor, and if the Collectors had any true consciousness, they would have cursed their fates before the freshly fired micromissiles descended and obliterated them.

"Yes! Yes! Behold the power of Chatika Vas Paus!"

The Sectopod marches forward, its new mistress walking behind it. It lowers its bulk, and Tali climbs atop it, magnetic boots glowing and the young quarian standing atop it, hands on her hips and laughing.

Looking out from behind cover, Ash stares. Jane gives a thumbs up. Then she runs out and over to the blue cavity in the cave, climbing up it and waving to Wrex. The Krogan shrugs.

"Doctor T'Soni!" Jane trots over, Ash following, rifle forward and scanning the cavern for stragglers.

One barely alive Collector sits up and brings up its gun, before Chatika obliterates it with an abundance of missiles. Liara peaks out from the waist high metal wall, and turns to Jane.

"Captain Jane Shepard, Systems Alliance," Jane says, "We're here to rescue you."

"Are you sure?" Liara asks.

Jane nods. Wrex grunts.

"I saw her first," he says with a snort, "And I got here first."

Liara stands up, raising a finger. "Right. We're not being fired on, and Wrex did get me out of that forcefield. So...first." She points to Wrex. "What do you want?"

"Boss wants some prothean artifact here."

Liara nods. "And it's here?"

Wrex grunts and nods.

"Easy enough." She points to Jane. "And you, Captain?"

"Your mother has joined forces with a renegade Spectre and is looking for a prothean artifact called the Conduit, possibly to take over the galaxy."

Liara blinks. She stares at Jane, and blinks again. Followed by a short, flat,

"What."

* * *

" _Hm. Fascinating."_ Joker glances at the floating optical display that serves as Julian's avatar. " _Did you know the Collectors use Omnitools?"_

"Seriously?" Joker cocks an eyebrow. "The boogeymen of the Terminus Systems use omnitools? Like, they shop at Sirius?"

" _I don't know their_ _ **make**_ _and_ _ **model,**_ _Mister Moreau. But they have Omnitools."_ The AI hums. " _Which also has rather standard security, which I've just cracked. Joy."_

Joker leans back in the pilot seat. "Okay, you're in. What's the plan?"

 _"I'm multitasking. I'm using a backdoor in the omnitool to access the systems on the Collector ship. Which is also, coincidentally, bad at keeping me out."_ Is that glee in the voice of the attack craft's AI? Joker shifts uncomfortably in his seat. " _Okay. I'm in. Decisions, decisions."_

On the screen next to him, Joker watches a diagram of the Collector ship appear. A bubble appears around it, and then disappears.

"Do you think this is maybe, too easy?"

" _Maybe I'm just that good, have you thought about that? Anyway, turned off their inertial dampening fields. Aaaaaaaand firing maneuvering jets."_

And in the distance, the Collector vessel _violently_ rotates. Joker's jaw drops. "Did you just _kill_ the Collectors?"

" _Not all of them. A lot of them. The Krogans they have in stasis will kill a lot more than I did, because they're not in stasis anymore. But while they're distracted, I'm going to mine their data."_

Julian hums a delightful tune while Joker idly grips the armrests of his seat. It was going so well, and now he's probably going to be mining cobalt on the planet Zarkon because he's plugged in the Overlord. "Anything interesting?" he asks, a little higher pitched than he intended.

" _Yes, actually. The Collectors are Protheans. That was a little too easy to find. This is suspicious."_

"A _bit."_ Joker sucks his teeth. "We should let the Normandy know this."

On cue, the controls light up again, and Joker pilots the ship back towards Therum.

* * *

The Sectopod stomped up behind them, keeping pace with Ash as both scan the blue metal corridors and keep watch for any surprises. Jane doesn't have the heart to tell Ash that the sectopod makes her kind of redundant.

Liara leads them to a large console which still looks new, and which powers on at a wave of her omnitool. "So the Protheans used Omnitools?" Ash asks.

"I don't think they shopped at Sirius, but they did seed technology so there is some compatibility," Liara responds, and brings up a holographic sphere, "Ah, here we go. This seemed to be a travel and communications hub during the late Third Enlightenment Era."

Wrex nods, arms folded and listening in on another conversation. The faint orange glow around his ear disappears. "Okay, I need the logs for the Attican Beta Relay."

"Attican Beta is the modern name," Liara says with a sight, and brings up a menu in what looks to Jane as perfectly normal script, but to everyone else at gibberish, "Location. Location."

Jane walks over and points to one of the lines. "That one."

Liara turns to her, cocking an eyebrow. "You can read Prothean?"

"It's Prothean?" Jane shrugs. "Well, I got hit by a Prothean Beacon."

Liara nods. "Close enough. People who interface with the Beacons tend to come out of it understanding the language. But that saves us some time."

Her omnitool glows. Wrex's omnitool glows. "My work here is done," he says with a grunt, and vanishes in a burst of light.

"Same teleporter," Jane says with a shrug, "Okay, let's head to the surface. Doctor T'Soni, we'd like you to come with us."

* * *

 **Mission Accomplished.**

 **Operation Blue Waffle**

 **Hates Collectors the Most:** Chatika Vas Paus

 **Most Accurate:** Chatika Vas Paus

 **Most Distance Traveled:** Tali'Zorah nar Rayya

 **Most Damage Done:** Chatika Vas Paus

* * *

The enormous Sectopod powered down and sits next to the Firestorm, curious engineers scanning the ancient bipedal tank with their omnitool. The Normandy itself came down to pick them up, and currently speeds off from the volcano planet, Kaidan meeting them at the elevator with an excited chryssalid at his side.

Tali takes a step behind Ash to avoid the gaze of Chirples. Liara, on the other hand, makes an excited squeal, squats down, and makes a stutter whistle sound. One excited chryssalid hug later, and Liara has a content and trilling Chirples in her arms.

"Oh, he's adorable," she says, "Who's is this?"

Jane raises a hand. "That's Chirples. He's my pet chryssalid."

"I would say I am looking forward to working with you, Captain." Liara places Chirples back down, and reaches into a pouch on her side to produce a small pack of jerky. "So, what was this about Benezia working for Saren?"

Liara pulls out a piece, handing it to a trilling Chirples. "Saren is looking for something called the Conduit," Jane explains, leading them into the elevator, "You're one of the two leading experts on the Prothean Extinction Theory, and we have an audio recording of Saren talking with Benezia."

Liara nods, idly waving a piece of dried varren meat to get Chirples to follow her into the elevator. Kaidan walks in with them and taps the console for the main deck.

"It's just confusing is all," Liara observes, "As far as I know, Benezia has never had any association with any Turian spectres. She's had contact with Asari spectres, but any Matriarch involved in politics would."

Jane hums, leaning on the railing. "Also," Jane adds, "Would _either_ of them have _any_ connection to the Collectors?"

"Honestly, if I were Benezia and trying to kill me, I'd hire Eclipse. They're much easier to find and take money." Liara shrugs. "I don't even see why they were in a Prothean ruin in the first place."

"Actually." Kaidan raises a hand. "According to what Julian found when it raided the Collector ship's database, the Collectors _are_ Prothean. Or descended from them."

Liara blinks. "Huh." She brings up her omnitool. Kaidan brings up his, taps a command, and sends the data over. "Not surprised it took this long for anyone to find out. The Collectors are reclusive. Still leaves a _lot_ of questions. I will have to pass this onto Professor Nazara."

Jane nods. The elevator comes to a stop, doors opening to reveal CiC. "I need to debrief the Council. Kaidan, can you bring her up to speed?"

Kaidan nods, and Jane rewards him with a smile before walking out.

* * *

Hands folded behind her, shoulders back, Jane walks across the CiC and towards the meeting room set off to the side. Idly, she quirks her lips and sends out a thought, wondering how aware her current passenger is to the happenings around her.

 _So, have you been following?_

 _Yes,_ Asaru says, _Odd, though. I never considered the possibility of the Protheans surviving._

 _Okay. Odd question. How old_ are _the Ethereals?_

 _I am unsure. We are ancient, but the Temple Ship took so much from us. Maybe we were contemporaries of the Protheans? Maybe older? I can't say for certain._

Jane nods. She walks into the meeting room, and gestures with her omnitool. Four pads built into the floor behind a thin metal railing come to life, and send off a signal through relays set in the hull of the ship, transmitting at faster than light speeds through similar apparatae set in Mass Relays in nearby systems.

The signal reaches its destination almost instantly. Each pad lights up and constructs a holographic image of four people- whether they are in their offices, on their homeworlds, or in the bathroom she can't tell. Holographics are useful like that.

She folds her hands behind her, standing at attention. "Councilors."

" _Captain Shepard,"_ Councilor Sparatus says, " _Where is Vasir?"_

"Debriefing Doctor T'Soni. It was an odd mission." Jane clicks her heels. "Doctor T'Soni's dig site was under assault by the Collectors. From what limited knowledge we know _of_ the Collectors, we can presume that they were after her."

There is a measured, studied silence. Valern raises his hand.

 _"I'm sorry, but did you say the_ _ **Collectors?**_ _They're real?"_

 _"I would figure STG would have proof,"_ Tevos says, turning to Valern. Or Valern's hologram.

" _How much do you honestly think STG tells me?"_ The holograms turn back to Jane, who straightens up. " _The Collectors?"_

"I grew up on a long range military ship. We never encountered them, but we did hear stories." Jane taps her omnitool, bringing up the data file and sending it. "We temporarily disabled their ship and raided their computer, and brought onboard corpses for autopsy."

 _"How?"_ That comes from Sparatus. A flat, simple question.

"Back door in their omnitools." Jane shrugs. "We then turned off inertial controls and fired maneuvering thrusters."

Tevos smiles. Valern stares. Sparatus says nothing. " _Do you think Saren hired the Collectors?"_ the turian finally asks.

Jane shrugs. "He somehow managed to get control of the Zudjari, so it's not impossible. The Collectors trade, so what would Saren have to trade with them?"

Jane, and the councilors, turn to Sparatus. The turian councilor lets out a long held in breath. " _As you know- or as Vasir will explain to you- Spectres are expected to procure their own equipment, their own transport, and their own salary. Your status as a Spectre is not an unlimited credit limit. It is a license to go outside of established channels."_

Jane nods. She furrows her brow. She straightens up. "Saren owns businesses."

" _He has a controlling interest in Binary Helix,"_ Sparatus confirms. The turian reaches up, pressing his finger and thumb against his nose ridge. " _They are located on Noveria."_

 _"Matriarch Benezia also owns stock in Binary Helix,"_ Tevos adds, arms folded, " _Before we go, Shepard. Status of the Prothean ruins?"_

"Intact." Jane smiles. "We neutralized the Collectors without blowing anything up. We also secured an intact Sectopod that may pre-date modern Ethereal expansion."

At this, Opheg speaks up.

" _Excellent. You have license from the Adventium to utilize it."_

With that, the four holograms disappear. "Oh, and thanks for not blowing up the ruins, Shepard," she says, and rolls her eyes, "I don't blow things up. Saren blew up the Beacon, not me."

Turning on her heel, she walks out of the conference room. Past the CiC, and into the slow ass elevator behind the map. Tapping the floor, she leans back on the railing and whistles, checking the time on her omnitool before the doors open. Her omnitool must be lying. There is no way these elevators are _fast._

Shelving the thought, she walks down the dimly lit hall and taps the green circle, opening up the well-lit medical bay and waving to the Chakwas.

On the table, normally reserved for wounded or injured crew, is a Collector. From the fact that its gut is opened up for the world to see, she's going to guess it's dead. "Autopsy?"

"Yes. So far I've identified some extensive biological augmentations. What seems off to you?"

Jane walks over. Looks down. ".I see nothing. There should be something."

"Exactly. No digestive system, for one. Basic organs. Nothing complex."

Jane turns to Chakwas as her snake doctor friend turns from the Collector to the supply section of the medical bay. "They look insectoid, though. Insects aren't that complex."

"Protheans weren't insectoid. They may look insectoid, but that is cosmetic."

Jane nods. "Like _cosplaying."_

"It doesn't appear to be by choice."

" _Forced_ cosplaying. That's _horrible."_

Chakwas hums, sliding over to a set of containment tanks and tapping her fingers. "It is obvious that the Collectors are heavily modified. Butchered, to put it more bluntly. It is frankly disgusting from a medical standpoint, but thankfully we can alleviate that."

Jane nods. "With?"

Chakwas pulls out a vial from one of the tanks. Loads it into what appears to be a syringe attached to a fire hose. "Meld. Lots of meld."

* * *

Deep down, in that part that giggles at the sight of weird alien things and normal biological functions which resemble extranet porn, Kaidan wants to point out that Doctor T'Soni could have bought Vasir a drink before she insisted on melding minds with her. Of course, the lieutenant _knows_ it wasn't because she wanted to have mind babies with her. He knew it was because Vasir was exposed to the Prothean Beacon, and T'Soni is one of the two foremost experts on the Protheans. Just, between Vasir and T'Soni the average age is around two centuries so why does he have to have common sense?

So, Alenko raises a hand and coughs. The debriefing room, the half circle of chairs which would normally be used by the Captain for after action reports, but is now being used by just the three of them, goes silent. "Doctor T'Soni, could we wait before we proposition the Spectre?"

Tela chortles, covering her mouth. T'Soni's cheeks turn dark blue.

"Don't worry, Doctor. I'm not offended." She pats Liara on the shoulder. "Besides which, you're as old as my kid."

Liara sits down. She tries to sit down harder, or at least further into the seat, as if trying to disappear into it.

"Anyway," Kaidan adds, "Captain Shepard _also_ was hit by the Prothean Beacon, so you could maybe...meld with her? To get the details?" He shrugs. "If a written report isn't good enough?"

"Or you could read Shepard's mind and then T'Soni can meld with you!" Vasir pats Liara on the shoulder. The young Asari's cheeks flush dark blue. Kaidan chokes. Thankfully, the dulcet tones of Captain Shepard's voice over the intercom save everyone from having to further dwell on the Spectre's attempts at shipping.

" _Hey everyone! This is your Captain speaking! AND THIS IS YOUR CAPTAIN SHOUTING! Anyway, if you've got a strong stomach and firearms training, we could use you in the Med Bay!"_

Kaidan glances at Vasir. Vasir shrugs. The intercom crackles again, and Shepard adds,

" _Right now!"_

* * *

 **End Chapter 4**


End file.
